Something to Prove
by PurpleHaze2
Summary: An alternate take on the Otalia relationship, post-"My Two Mommies." Some dialogue is taken from the show (with a healthy dose of creative license), and the perspective shifts back and forth between Natalia and Olivia. I originally published this story on IF in 2009, but I wanted to give it a bit of a facelift, so I'll be posting slightly altered chapters as I finish editing.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"Do you have a problem with us, ladies?"

I'm standing at the Towers bar with Emma, waiting to pay for our ice cream, when I hear Olivia's voice from across the room, sounding louder and sharper than usual. Scanning the restaurant quickly, I groan when I see her confronting two women sitting at a table overlooking the one we've just left.

"You seem very interested in my family," she continues.

Her deep-timbered voice carries clearly over the noise of the restaurant, and I can see that she's already drawn the attention of a few people sitting at nearby tables.

"So, where'd you hear about us? From the mayor's press conference, or, wait a minute: you put two and two together, saw my daughter's book report on the internet, and came up with some freakin' scandal, right?"

_Oh god, what is she doing?_

I know that I need to get over there as quickly as possible before Olivia does something she'll regret. I glance down at the debit card reader in my hands and silently will the "approved" message to appear on the screen. I can just barely hear the women's startled comments and Olivia's mocking response before my payment goes through and I'm finally able to return the machine to the bartender.

Before darting away, I look down at Emma and plaster a bright smile on my face.

"Emma, sweetie, can you do me a favour?"

"Sure!" the little girl replies cheerfully.

I bend down and lift her onto a bar stool. "Stay right here, okay? Right where I can see you. I'm just going to go get your mommy."

Emma shifts around in her seat and stares across the restaurant at her mother, who is clearly only just beginning to warm up for the fight.

"Mommy looks angry," she says matter-of-factly.

"No, honey, she's just… having a little conversation," I lie. I give Emma a quick, playful rustle of her hair before making a beeline for Olivia.

I arrive just in time to hear her talking about the benefits of having two women raising a child in a household filled with love. As I approach, I'm torn between wanting to strangle her for contributing to the gossip mill that's already in full swing around us, and wanting to wrap my arms around her to thank her for defending our family to the world.

But we've already been exposed to the town's ire because of Doris Wolfe's televised speech, and I'm not interested in adding to the speculation about our relationship. I decide my only option is to stop her before things get out of hand.

"Excuse me," I say, trying to keep my voice calm and reasonable. Slowly, Olivia turns around and shoots me a warning look, which I choose to ignore.

"Sorry," I add, with an apologetic wave to the women. "She's a little… upset."

I meet Olivia's gaze and subtly motion to the exit in what we both know is a vain attempt to convince her to leave.

_You don't need to do this_, I plead with my eyes. _We can walk away right now._

But Olivia is clearly not in the mood to be convinced. She's got her sights set on a fight and she's not about to surrender. I watch with a growing sense of anxiety as her eyes sparkle with a new idea.

"No, honey, no," she protests, her voice sugary sweet.

She shifts closer to me and I feel her fingers slide across my hips to pull me against her. The motion forces my arm around her waist, and I find myself drawn into a half embrace with her. I'm instantly filled with dread, along with something else – a feeling that has become more and more familiar to me over the last several weeks, and which only seems to intensify whenever I'm near Olivia.

"I'm not upset," Olivia continues, turning to defiantly meet the stares of the two women who are watching our interaction with obvious curiosity. "In fact, I've never been better."

Anxiously, I glance at Olivia. As unhappy as I am that she's pulled me into this charade, I can't seem to force myself to walk away. She has always had this effect on me. Even when we were fighting over Gus and every rational instinct told me to keep a safe distance between Olivia and myself, I could never seem to stay away from her for long.

And that bond has only gotten stronger as our friendship has intensified over the last few months. Now there are times when I feel as though there's some kind of magnet inside of me that pulls me to her. Even at this moment, with the inquisitive stares of the two women sitting in front of us and my own frustration with Olivia's antagonistic attitude, all I can really concentrate on is the sensation of her hand pressed against the small of my back and the smouldering look she's giving me. I'm frozen to the spot, unable to move away or say anything that would resolve the situation.

Luckily, things are taken out of my hands when the women exchange a pointed look with each other before getting up from their table. They throw two phony smiles our way and then move in unison to make their way to the bar.

As they go, I feel Olivia shifting away from me to follow them. But before she gets too far, I grab her hand and pull her back around to face me.

"What?" she asks, her face still full of confrontational anger.

"Olivia, you don't have to do this," I say, my voice pleading. "You don't have to prove anything."

For a brief moment, her eyes soften and I think she's about to give in. But, in the next instant something shifts and her fighting instinct takes over again. She gives me a look that brooks no argument.

"I _do_ have something to prove, Natalia," she insists. "We both do."

A quick, calculating smile crosses her lips before she spins away from me to follow the two women toward the bar. I sigh heavily and trail behind her, a helpless witness to whatever scheme she's decided to hatch.

"Hey!" Olivia's voice forces the two women to turn to face her again. "You know what? I just realised I didn't get a chance to introduce you to Natalia."

_Oh lord, please don't bring me into this again_…

"I'm so _sorry_," she says disingenuously. She moves closer to me, and her arm slides around my waist again. "Natalia, this is Becky's mom and Owen's mom. Their kids go to the same school as Emma."

The women nod and smile awkwardly at me, while Olivia continues talking blithely.

"And Natalia, of course, is the other star of my daughter's school project, but I'm guessing you already knew that, you know, since you were up there whispering about us behind our backs."

I can hear Olivia's anger intensifying, and for some reason I feel the need to smooth over her bristling tone.

"Sorry," I say quietly. "Nice to meet you."

I instantly regret my apology when I see the patronising smile that Owen's mom gives me.

"Likewise," she smirks. Then she turns to her friend and adds uncomfortably, "We really should be going."

But Olivia won't be dissuaded so easily. She's like a cat that's cornered its prey, but wants to taunt it for a while before going in for the kill.

"No, no, no," she argues. "Don't you want to ask questions? Really, it's ok. You know, like what it's like to be two mommies together? Who fixes Emma's lunch in the morning? Who goes on her field trips with her? I mean, we both have decided to share that responsibility, and the cooking… although she makes a mean chicken and rice and her lasagne is to die for."

I cough out an awkward laugh. "Olivia…"

"And we work together at the Beacon; I don't know if you knew that. So we live _and_ work together, but I have to say that I… I have never been happier in my entire life."

At that, I meet Olivia's gaze, surprised by her sudden shift in tone. Even though I know she's just trying to push her adversaries' buttons, I'm also aware that there's a certain element of truth in her words. But what she says next catches me completely off-guard.

"Because not only is this women a great mom," she adds, giving me a sultry smile, "but she is smart, and she's funny, and… let's face it: she's a hottie."

Olivia isn't looking at me now – she's gauging the impact of her words on the women facing us – but she tightens her grip on my hip, and suddenly I'm very aware of our proximity. An image leaps unbidden into my mind, one that has haunted me for the last two weeks: Olivia reaching forward, cupping my face in her hands, and pulling me into the most unexpected kiss of my life. I remember the warmth of her lips against my own, and my slight hesitation before I felt myself just barely begin to melt into her embrace.

All of this passes through my mind in a matter of seconds, before Owen's mother's voice interrupts my thoughts.

"It was nice meeting you, Natalia," she tells me, clearly looking for an escape. "We're late for PTA."

Olivia calls out to them as they walk away, her voice full of triumph. "Ok, say hi to Becky for me? And Owen? And call; we'll make a play date!"

As soon as the women's backs are turned, I spin away from Olivia, my mind still reeling in confusion.

"Well, that was fun," she says brightly, and her bemused tone only makes me more furious.

The worst part of it all is that I can't decide who I'm angrier with: Olivia, the women she confronted, or myself. The only thing I know for sure is that I can't bear to face Olivia right now. I don't even think about Emma, who is still sitting at the bar, and has presumably been watching the entire scene unfold. I only know that I need to get outside, to breathe some fresh air, to collect myself before we all get in the car to head back to the farmhouse together.

As I stride toward the exit, I hear Olivia calling out after me. "Hey, what'd I say?"

I ignore her and push open the door, gratefully gulping in the cool air of the early evening. I lean back against the wall and stare up at the sky, trying desperately to pull myself together before Olivia reappears. My heart is still pounding loudly in my ears, and my face feels warm and flushed.

If I'm being totally honest with myself, I know that it isn't anger alone that's making me feel this way. Underneath the anger lurks that other thing – that feeling that has been with me ever since Olivia pulled me into that kiss.

Ever since I almost kissed her back.

I can still feel the ghost of Olivia's touch on my hips, and I rub my hand across my back in an effort to erase the feeling.

_What the hell am I going to do?_

Before I can figure out the answer to that question, the door beside me opens and Olivia is standing in front of me.

"I thought you might have stranded me."

She offers me a crooked smile. I know she's trying to smooth things over with a joke, but I'm not in the mood to play along.

"Where's Emma?" I ask, noticing that the little girl hasn't followed Olivia outside.

"Her friend Jodie arrived with her parents while we were… _talking_ with those two gossips." Her grin widens, and I try to counteract it with an even deeper frown. "They invited Emma to spend the night, so I said yes."

"Okay," I reply tersely, pushing myself away from the wall and heading toward the car.

Olivia follows close on my heels. We're silent until we reach the vehicle and settle into our seats. Finally Olivia speaks.

"I think I broke Owen and Becky's moms' brains." She throws her head back in a satisfied laugh.

The lightness of her tone touches something inside of me and I feel my anger boiling over. I glare at her as I start the car.

"Why do you do that?"

Her mirth is cut short by my accusation, and she turns to challenge me.

"Do what, exactly?"

"Make a scene, just to prove a point. We were having a nice time until you decided to pick a fight."

I pull out of the parking lot and try my best to concentrate on the road ahead of me.

Olivia laughs harshly. "What would _you_ do, Natalia? Ignore them? Pretend that they aren't whispering about us?"

"Yes!" I yell, my voice sounding sharp in the confined space of the car. "You don't _have_ to confront every single person in the world who annoys you, you know."

"Oh okay, so you'd rather that I ignore the fact that they're sitting there, trying to come up with ways to make my daughter's life a living hell? Because you know that's what that was all about. Derek isn't going to be the only kid who's forced to cancel play dates with Emma because of Doris Wolfe's press conference."

"Well, I don't think what you just did is going to help Emma in any way," I counter. "In fact, I think you only made things worse."

A thick pause passes before Olivia speaks again. "Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

Her question catches me off guard. I know on some level that I'm overreacting, but I'm not ready to confront the real reason for my anger, so I deflect.

"What do you think those women believe about us now? With you talking about me like that…"

"Like what? It was all the truth, wasn't it? You _are_ a great mom. And you're smart, you're funny, and…"

She stops short as we both realise what she was about to say. Another tense silence descends between us, and she turns away from me to stare out the passenger window.

A few minutes later, I heave a quiet sigh of relief when I pull into the farmhouse driveway. Only when I put the car in park does Olivia finally break the silence.

"You know, I took it easy on those two. They deserved a lot worse than what I gave them."

"I still don't understand why you couldn't just _ignore_ them," I protest. "Why does everything have to be a confrontation with you? And, more to the point, why did you have to involve _me_ in it?"

"Hey, you involved yourself," she points out. "I didn't ask you to come over to play referee."

"I wasn't the one who pretended that we're a couple!" I yell indignantly.

Olivia sighs and stares darkly out the windshield.

"Whatever," she says quietly. "Let's just forget it happened, okay?"

"Oh, that's easy for you to say," I snap, unbuckling my seat belt and reaching for the door handle.

She looks surprised. "You're coming inside?"

"Yeah," I confirm as I get out of the car. "We need to finish talking about this."

Before I shut the door, Olivia leans over the gearshift to call after me.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to be going back to your date with Frank?"

"This is more important." I bend down to meet her gaze. "Are you coming inside, or what?"

"Alright, alright," she groans. "I'm coming."

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Are you coming inside, or what?"

Natalia's tone is insistent. Truth be told, now that we've reached the farmhouse again, I'm feeling ready for another fight. During the car ride home, I've wavered between wanting to force Natalia to justify her reaction to what happened at Towers, and wanting to just forget the whole thing ever happened.

But now, the anger in her voice touches a nerve in me, and I feel my own frustration bubbling over in response. If she wants a fight, I'll give her one.

"Alright, alright," I snap as I unbuckle my seat belt. "I'm coming."

She nods firmly and slams the car door in my face.

_So much for letting bygones be bygones._

Exhaling heavily, I step out of the vehicle and follow her up the walkway to the farmhouse, my confrontation with the mothers at Towers running over again in my mind.

When I first walked over to the women's table, my plan had only been to shame them for their behaviour. I had spotted them whispering together while Natalia, Emma, and I were finishing our ice cream, and it had made my blood boil. Who were they to sit there, judging us? Who were they to determine that what we had was somehow _less_ than what they had with their families? I had decided that I wouldn't let them get away with it. I _couldn't_, especially not after everything that had happened that day, with Doris Wolfe's press conference and Emma getting so upset over her broken play date with Derek.

When Natalia joined us and I slipped my arm around her waist, I wasn't thinking about anything other than shoving Owen and Becky's mothers' ridiculous prejudices right in their faces. But then, as I began talking about how much Natalia means to me – about how much she's changed my life, and how happy she makes me – I suddenly realised I wasn't just saying those things for show. I really meant them.

Even though we first started growing closer in the months following my heart transplant, back then it was easier to explain the shifts in our relationship as the natural intimacy of a new friendship. But ever since we moved into the farmhouse together, things between us have changed. We always seem to find excuses to spend time together, to be close, to touch each other. A quick squeeze of the shoulder, an arm wrapped loosely around a waist, hands unconsciously reaching for each other, and lingering hugs: over time these physical displays have become unquestioned elements of our daily interaction. And, although I haven't had many female friends in my life, I know that the way we act toward each other isn't completely normal friendship behaviour. Even Natalia, with all of her naiveté, must have picked up on it.

But, as long as neither of us calls attention to it, we can pretend to ignore what's happening. Over the last few months, Natalia and I have become masters of denying the obvious.

It was only when Emma gave her "My Two Mommies" presentation that things began to shift irrevocably between us. That night, I suddenly recognised exactly how the rest of the world must see Natalia and I, and it awoke something inside of me. As I sat watching Emma's presentation, clasping Natalia's hand between my own and bristling under the curious stares of the parents around us, I realised that on some level their suspicions about us were right: we _weren't_ just friends.

At some indefinable moment, I had begun to see Natalia as more than a housemate, a friend, or even someone who was helping me to raise Emma. And, although I wasn't fully prepared to name those feelings at the time, they had all crystallised for me later that night when I pulled Natalia toward me and pressed my lips against hers. In that instant, I felt a part of myself give way, and all at once I became aware of the true depth of my feelings for the woman in my arms.

And, to make matters even more confusing, I was certain I felt Natalia start to relax into my embrace, her lips parting for the briefest of moments. But then she had violently pulled away from me, and we had both gone back to pretending that we're nothing more than friends.

_And here we are, continuing the charade_.

My thoughts quickly shift back to the present when Natalia and I reach the front door of the farmhouse. As she jiggles the key in the lock, which always sticks no matter how much we oil it, I can practically see the anger radiating off of her. Natalia and I have our differences, but living together has given me more insight into her little quirks, so that now I can read her like a book. At the moment, her frustration is practically a physical presence between us – I feel almost as if I could reach out and grab it from the air.

She adjusts the key in the lock again and pushes it more forcefully, to no avail. Finally, I reach out to grab it from her.

"Here, let me do that."

Wordlessly, she glares at me and pushes my arm away with one hand while resuming her jiggling with the other. I'm surprised to hear her muttering something that sounds like a curse under her breath. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I've heard Natalia swear. To be honest, it would be endearing if I weren't feeling so frustrated myself. I shift impatiently from foot to foot, trying to contain the torrent of words that are threatening to spill out of my mouth.

Finally she succeeds with the lock, and I follow her inside the warm farmhouse and into the living room, both of us removing our heavy winter jackets along the way. She hasn't uttered a word yet, so I decide to take the lead.

"Don't you think you're overreacting, just a little bit?"

Apparently her fury has only intensified during the brief walk from the car because she practically screams her response at me.

"What on earth were you thinking, causing such a _scene_ in front of those women?"

Her voice sounds much shriller than it did during the ride home. Not to be outdone, I yell back at her.

"Who cares? They're a couple of pathetic gossips!"

"You made them think that…" she trails off, and I leap in to finish her thought.

"What, what?" I insist. "That the rumours were true? What would you have had me do? Turn the other cheek?"

She nods enthusiastically. "That would have been one way of handling it, yeah!"

I can't believe that she's still pressing this point with me – surely she knows me better than that. Surely she knows I would do _anything_ to defend my family.

"No, that's _your_ religion; that's not mine." Any hope of me holding onto my temper has officially evaporated. "I don't believe in getting walked on, not by anybody. Somebody kicks me? I kick them back!"

I want to add, _Don't you know that about me by now?_, but I swallow the words before they can escape my lips.

Anger simmers through every fibre of my body, but it's mixed with something much worse: a kind of deep-rooted sadness. Natalia's response to what happened at Towers is just proof of my fears: that no matter what we feel for each other, Natalia will never be able to accept the kind of life I've begun to long for.

"And that's what's best for Emma?" Natalia challenges me again.

"Oh, I think she would have been _proud_ of what I did today."

I smile a little when I remember the look on Emma's face when I approached her after Natalia had stormed out of Towers. She had seen most of my confrontation with Owen and Becky's mothers from her perch on the bar stool, and although she hadn't heard my words, she seemed to know what had happened. The bright smile she greeted me with told me that she was glad that I had stood up for her – for all three of us.

Right now, I just wish that Natalia felt the same way.

"Perpetuating a lie?" she presses.

"No, no!" I protest. "By showing those women that I don't tolerate that narrow-minded crap!"

"Oh, please!" she snaps. "You didn't take the high road. You felt like picking a fight, and that's exactly what you did."

Chastised by her comment, I suddenly realise that she's right: I did feel like picking a fight, just not in the way she means. Some part of me has been itching to have this argument ever since the night of Emma's presentation.

But it wasn't those women at Towers that I wanted to confront. It was Natalia all along.

"Instead of explaining the situation to them," she continues, "the whole misunderstanding with Emma's project, you just decided to make everything worse."

"So what?"

I'm acutely aware that's a childish comeback – something akin to "I-know-you-are-but-what-am-I?" – but I'm too furious to care. Suddenly my whole focus has shifted: I feel like I _have_ to push Natalia on this, to make her see that the rumours about us can't hurt us. To prove to her that no matter what happens, we can face it together.

"So _what_?" I repeat.

She looks at me like I've got three heads. "So, now _those_ women think that…"

Again I interrupt her, determined to prove that I'm fully aware of the implications of what I've done.

"What? They think that we're _lovers_?"

I'm struck by the weight of my own words, but I can't stop myself from saying them. I always knew that Natalia would witness my confrontation with those women at Towers, which would give me the chance to pull her into this fight, to find out how she'd react to the idea of us being together.

_And now you know: she's disgusted by the thought_, a voice in my mind blares loudly.

I try to ignore the sharp sting of pain that follows that realisation, but Natalia's disdainful look only deepens my fears.

"Oh, you just loved it," she mocks. "You loved just messing with their brains, and making them believe that we're a couple."

"So… _what_?" I repeat forcefully. I feel more words bubbling up, and before I can swallow them, they're coming out of my mouth. "What is _so wrong_ with people thinking that we're gay? Is it _really_ the end of the world to you?"

My voice shakes with emotion, and Natalia seems to pick up on it. Her expression softens slightly as we stare at each other for a few heavy seconds, both of us trying to decide how to respond.

"What are you saying?" she finally asks. "Are you saying that you _want_ people to believe that we're in a relationship?"

I put my hands on my hips and close my eyes, willing my emotions under control again. I can't look at her for fear that I'll crumble under the weight of her gaze. Finally, much to my own chagrin, I back down, just a little bit.

"I'm just… I'm saying that who cares what people think?"

"I do!" Natalia replies emphatically. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you: _I_ care what people think! Because I'm a mother."

"Yeah, me too!" I point out. "I don't want Emma going through her life, worried about what people think or say behind her back."

Natalia shakes her head. "I don't either. But you could have walked away and _ignored_ them."

I shift closer to her again, my face flushed with anger. "Is that what you want to teach Emma? That she should just run away from people who try to bully her?"

"_You_ were taunting _them_," she argues. "You made everything _so_ much worse."

"To make a point!" I reply, recognising almost immediately the weakness of my argument.

_What the hell was I trying to do?_ I wonder. _Who was I trying to make a point to: those women, Natalia, or myself?_

Natalia throws her head back in exasperation. "What, what _point_?"

"This is none of their business!"

Suddenly I feel as though I'm about to burst into tears, and I swallow hard, trying frantically to gain some semblance of control over my emotions. But Natalia appears to be too wrapped up in her own frustration to notice the sadness in my eyes.

"Well, Doris Wolfe made it their business when she turned it into a news story."

"I don't care what Doris Wolfe says or does! We know the truth."

I can hear that annoying voice in my mind continuing to taunt me: _And what is the truth, Olivia?_

I don't know the answer, and I'm not sure Natalia does either.

She shrugs sadly at me. "Perception is reality."

"Oh, because Doris Wolfe said it, then we must be lovers?"

I'm testing her again, gauging her reaction to my words, just like I did earlier with the women at Towers. As I expected, she deflects the point.

"Please stop twisting everything I say around, and just listen to me," she pleads. "What you did back there was _wrong_."

I stamp my foot angrily. "So being two mommies together, this is just a really terrible, horrible thing."

Natalia sighs in exasperation. "I didn't say that!"

"It sounded that way."

I hate the way I sound: the angry, irrationally spiteful edge in my voice. I feel like a high school boy with a crush, trying to explain to a cooler girl why I thought our kiss meant more than it did.

Natalia appears as frustrated with me as I am with myself. She brings her hands up to cover her face.

"Oh, okay, you know what? You have your beliefs, and I have mine."

That cuts me to the quick, and I suck in a deep breath of air to try to calm down, even as her words seem to confirm the very worst of my fears: that no matter what we feel for each other, we will never be able to do anything about it. We will always be handcuffed by Natalia's beliefs.

When I finally speak, my voice sounds softer and sadder. "See, I thought that you believed in us. That you believed in this family: in you, and me, and Emma."

She stares at me for a moment, her face a mixture of desperation and confusion. Her expression tells me that my words have hit their mark, and for a brief moment I think that she's about to say something to soothe me, to make things okay between us again. But then a familiar blank shield clouds her face, and I know our conversation is finished.

She sighs heavily and reaches for her jacket, which is resting on the couch behind me.

"I have to go," she says quietly. "I have to go meet up with Frank again. You just tell Emma that I will see her tonight."

She spins around and practically sprints toward the kitchen door.

"Okay, great," I sigh.

In all the passion of our argument, I had almost forgotten about her date with Frank – the one she left in order to play hookie with Emma and I that afternoon. The one that just a few minutes ago she had said was less important to her than continuing her discussion with me.

The slamming of the door puts the final punctuation point on our argument, and I run a hand through my hair, trying to resist the urge to scream. I can't quite wrap my mind around the fact that Natalia has just run away from me to be with Frank, yet again.

The worst part of it all is that I know I'm partly responsible for all of this. I've spent the last month pushing Natalia toward Frank in a vain attempt to get her further away from me. I had convinced myself that foisting her onto someone else would help me to get over whatever it is that I'm feeling for her.

"And how's that working out for you, Olivia?" I murmur mockingly, releasing a harsh, mirthless laugh at my own stupidity.

I sink onto the couch behind me and stare blankly at the wall while I listen to Natalia's car pull out of the driveway. For a brief moment I consider giving in to the tears that have been threatening to overwhelm me for the last few minutes, but instead I shake my head roughly to clear it of everything but my remaining anger.

Then, making a quick decision, I grab my jacket and head toward the door. If Natalia wants to run off to a man to forget about me, then surely I can do the same thing.

Two can play at that game.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

I throw the farmhouse door shut behind me and practically hurl myself in the car. I'm not normally an aggressive driver, but the tires squeal loudly as I back out of the driveway.

_Calm down, Natalia_, I warn myself. I grasp the steering wheel and try to focus on the road ahead. My heart is still pounding, but it just takes a few moments for my frustration to disappear, only to be replaced with a deep sense of regret over my decision to run away from Olivia.

As I drive, Olivia's face flashes through my mind, her dejected expression as she watched me leave sending a pang of guilt through me. I briefly consider turning the car back around and returning to the farmhouse.

Then again, what would I say? What words could possibly help break down the barriers that Olivia and I have spent the last few weeks carefully constructing between us?

I groan quietly as I pull up in front of Company, where Frank is waiting for me. With effort, I try to tamp down my dread over sitting through another awkward date with him.

I exhale heavily as I get out of the car, my sigh crystallising as a fog in the cold winter air. Like a doomed prisoner, I trudge slowly toward the entrance to Company. I want to look eager to see Frank – I want to _be_ eager to see Frank – but I can't quite muster it. Some part of me already knows that this isn't where I'm supposed to be.

As I enter the diner, I see Frank sitting at the bar waiting for me, and I plaster what I hope is a bright smile on my face.

"Hi!"

Frank's enthusiasm is not forced in the least. He is genuinely happy to see me. I try to smile through another sharp stab of guilt.

"Sorry I'm late."

"Oh, hey, are you kidding me?" He pulls my jacket off my shoulders. "Here, let me help you."

"Oh, okay." This sort of chivalry doesn't usually appeal to me, but I know Frank is trying to impress me, and I'm too tired to protest.

"I am dying to hear the end of that story that you were telling," he continues eagerly.

_Story? What story?_

I search my memory for what we were talking about before I got the call about Emma earlier, but my mind refuses to cooperate. All I can think about right now is my argument with Olivia.

"What story?" I ask, settling on the bar stool beside him.

"You know, that guy in Chicago, with the pizzas and all that?" he prompts, searching my face enthusiastically.

"Oh! With the…" I laugh and lift a hand to my face to hide my embarrassment. "Well, it was just a running joke in my neighbourhood that this one guy was keeping Joe's Pizza Place afloat because it was ten pizzas a day, and the guy was _this_ skinny, and…"

I suddenly realise I'm rambling. "You… had to be there."

"Boy, I'm glad I waited!" Frank chuckles gamely.

"No, I know." I give him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry we didn't get to have our picnic."

I'm actually more relieved than sorry, but I decide to keep that to myself.

He looks at me with genuine regret. "Aw, me too, but you know what? No worries. We'll do it another time."

"'Kay," I reply noncommittally.

Frank glances around the diner with a contented smile. "You know, this is nice. This works for me."

I shrug and try to sound equally happy. "This works for me," I parrot back.

"Good. So, how's Emma?"

His question instantly sends my thoughts back to the events of the afternoon. I see Emma, sad because of her broken play date, and then I see Olivia and I deciding to play hookie with the little girl by going to Towers for ice cream. An image of the three of us laughing and talking together takes shape in my mind, and I relive the moment when Olivia reached across the table to gently wipe away a drop of melted ice cream from the corner of my mouth.

All of this passes through my head in a matter of seconds, but it causes a flush to creep across my face, and I rest my cheek on one hand to hide it.

"Ah, she… she's okay," I stammer. "She, uh, she was just upset."

"Uh oh," Frank says, completely oblivious to my discomfort. "Am I gonna have to get a little tough with that kid who broke her play date? Give him a little parking ticket for his tricycle?"

I know he's trying to draw a laugh from me, but I can't muster much more than a weak smile.

"It wasn't Derek's fault," I start to explain, but I stop abruptly. Suddenly I have no desire to talk about Olivia with Frank.

He shifts a little closer, and I have to resist the urge to pull away. As unfair as it is, I can't help but compare that impulse to how I feel whenever Olivia leans closer to me. I've never once felt the need – or the desire – to pull away from her.

_So, what are you doing here?_

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I lie, slamming my palm on the bar, partly in frustration, and partly to force myself to focus on Frank instead of that nagging voice in my head.

"I just, uh…" I shake my head. "It bothers me when little kids get upset like that, you know? But Emma's tough. She'll get through it and she'll be fine. It's just part of growing up, right?"

"Yeah, well, some of us are still going through that," Frank replies, still aiming for humour, but not quite succeeding.

"Don't sell yourself short," I tell him, as my guilt finally gets the better of me. "You are one of the good guys, Frank Cooper. You are… you're the best one out there."

Almost instantly, I regret my choice of words, especially when I see the grateful look on his face.

_Why are you doing this?_ that voice in my mind harps at me again.

I stare at Frank and suddenly realise that I have no answers for myself.

* * *

"Let me guess," the bartender says, with a slight sneer. "Martini, two olives."

_Who the hell hired this guy, and how quickly can I get him fired?_

Fortunately for him, at this moment I need alcohol more than I need to flaunt my authority.

"Make it a double."

I've already noticed the good-looking man sitting at the other end of the bar, staring at me. He's tall, dark, and handsome: everything I'm looking for right now.

"You can put that on my tab," he says, moving toward the bar stool beside me. "Unless the beautiful lady objects," he adds. Then he smiles, revealing a perfect set of white, gleaming teeth.

_All the better to eat you with, my dear._

But, I'm no innocent Red Riding Hood. I came back to Towers tonight with the hope of finding a distraction, and this man fits the bill perfectly.

A familiar feeling of power sweeps over me as he approaches. It's reassuring to know that I still have this kind of sway over a man, especially after having been so recently reduced to a weakened version of myself by Natalia.

I brush my hair behind an ear demurely and shake my head.

"The lady doesn't object. Not so far, anyway. I'm Olivia. And you are…?"

* * *

"Here you go," Frank says, handing me a glass of red wine.

For some reason, the small gesture sends my guilt off on a rampage again, and I find myself overwhelmed with gratitude.

"You take such good care of me, Frank."

"Natalia, it's just a glass of wine," Frank protests, although his expression betrays his delight with my response.

"I don't know what I did to deserve it."

I can't for the life of me figure out why these words keep coming out of my mouth. It's like I feel the need to talk, to explain to Frank – or to myself – why I'm here instead of back at the farmhouse with Olivia.

I still feel haunted by the look in her eyes just before I ran out on our argument. She'd looked utterly lost when she said she thought I believed in the same things as her: in the little family we've created together at the farmhouse. My throat constricts as I recall how much I wanted not just to tell her, but to _show_ her the strength of my belief in us. The feeling had been overwhelming, and I had found myself as close to erasing that short gap between us as I had ever been before. In the few seconds that I stood there staring at Olivia, contemplating my next move, my mind had been crowded with images of us continuing what we started on the night of Emma's school presentation, of _finally_ ending the dance we've been doing around each other for weeks.

But instead, as always, I took the easiest way out: I ran away.

My scattered thoughts are forced back into the present by Frank's puzzled expression. I suddenly realise I've left my thought half finished, so I leap to the most obvious explanation for my gratitude.

"I don't know what Rafe or I would have done without you these past few months. You have been the most amazing friend. A lot of other guys would have turned and ran when they found out my son was going to go to prison."

That much is true: Frank has been a good ally for my son, even though I've always known that there was more to his kindness than a simple gesture of friendship toward me.

Frank gives me a heartfelt look. "I wish I could have done more. I wish I could have gotten him off or at least gotten him a lesser sentence."

"You did the best thing. You stood by me. You supported me when…"

I trail off and bite my nail nervously. Once again, all I can see in my mind is Olivia. _She's_ the one who has really supported me over the last few months. I think about all the times she came with me to see Rafe in prison. I think about her doing everything she could to help get my son into a safer prison and to have his sentence reviewed much sooner than anyone expected. I think about the way she came through for me when I'd lost all my money in Decker's risky hedge fund. Without hesitation, she gave up a job that she loved in order to get my money back. She's done _everything_ for me.

_So, why are you here?_

That unanswered question draws my attention back to the man standing in front of me, and I realise I've lapsed into silence again. With effort, I try to pull my thoughts together.

"I just hope that you feel that way in the future. That you won't regret… standing by me."

_What on Earth do you even mean by that?_

The awful reality, the thing I haven't wanted to acknowledge, is that I've been stringing along Frank for weeks. Whenever my feelings for Olivia begin to overwhelm me, I run to Frank. He's been the safe option this whole time – the one who I thought would make my life simpler, the one who wouldn't draw the stares or the comments of the gossips in Springfield, like the two women Olivia confronted this afternoon at Towers.

And, to make things even more complicated, I know that the Coopers would be thrilled about our relationship, and Rafe would certainly be happy to have a father figure in his life again.

_But what about you?_ that persistent voice at the back of my mind insists. _Would you be happy with Frank? Or, would you always wonder about what you could have had?_

The question is daunting, and I push it aside to force myself to listen to what Frank is saying.

"What are you talking about?" he asks. "I would never, ever regret standing by you. Are you kidding me?"

I stare at him and try to will myself to see his face rather than Olivia's. It doesn't work.

Unaware of my wandering thoughts, Frank continues. "Listen, when Rafe gets out of prison, I'm gonna throw him the biggest homecoming this town has ever seen."

I try to smile and fail miserably. Again. "I'm not just talking about Rafe."

Frank looks concerned and takes my hand, while I try to resist the urge to pull away.

"Are you okay? What's going on with you?" he asks.

I look down at our intertwined hands and try to choose the best way to respond. Suddenly, almost as an unconscious impulse, more words tumble out.

"I know moms aren't really supposed to talk like this 'cause we're supposed to be so strong and brave and, you know… no matter what, right? But I just, I really just wish sometimes I could just go away and just, get away and clear my head, you know? And not have to… face things."

Frank looks thoughtful for a moment, and I chew anxiously on a fingernail again. It's an old habit that I broke when I was a teenager, but recently it has returned with a vengeance.

"Look, I'm…," Frank starts nervously. "I'm just going to throw this out there, ok? My buddy Stan, he has a, uh, timeshare in the mountains? And he said whenever I want it, it's mine. It's mine for the asking. So… why don't we go?"

I look at him blankly as a series of conflicting feelings rush over me. I have absolutely no desire to spend a weekend in the mountains with Frank, but the thought of escaping Springfield for a while… well, that is appealing.

_That's right. Run away from your feelings. It's always worked so well for you in the past._

I try to tune out that mocking voice again, with no luck. And, in an instant, I realise that _this_ is the moment to make a decision, to be proactive for a change. For once in my life I need to be brave. I need to do what makes me happy instead of what's easiest.

Frank reads the uncertain expression on my face and puts his hands up in surrender. "Okay, bad idea! Sorry. It was just a… just a thought."

"No, it's not that, Frank," I explain. "I'd love to get away. But I just realised that… I can't. I've run away from too much in my life. Every time things get complicated, I run. It's time to stop."

"What do you mean?" he asks, leaning closer again. "What are you running away from?"

I can see the hope still clearly written on his face, and I know I need to be honest. It's unfair to let him keep pining for something that's never going to happen.

"Frank, you've been a good friend to me," I begin gently. "But, I can't do this. I can't pretend this is more than it is – that I feel more for you than I do."

Frank's face drops in disappointment, and he leans back. "Oh, uh… okay."

"I'm sorry," I add. "I know this is kind of out of the blue."

"Natalia, you know, I was only mentioning the timeshare as an option. There's no pressure or anything."

I toss him a sympathetic smile. "I know. It's not about that. It's just that… I can't keep running from things just because I don't know how to handle them. You've helped me to realise that I need to confront my feelings – to deal with them, no matter what happens."

"I've helped you realise that?"

I nod and climb down from the bar stool. "Yeah. And I will always be grateful for that. But," I gesture back and forth between us, "this isn't going to work. You're a great guy, Frank… and I hope we can stay friends."

Frank looks crestfallen, but he makes a valiant effort to smile through it.

"Of course," he says. "I'll always be your friend."

For the first time all night, I give him a genuine smile.

"I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay," he nods.

As I walk out the door and toward my car, I feel lighter and freer than I have all day – all month, even. But then, as I cross the parking lot, my smile slowly shifts into an anxious frown as the full realisation of what I'm about to do dawns on me.

I unlock the car and drop down heavily into the driver's seat, taking a moment to work up my courage again. Then, gathering myself determinedly, I put the key in the ignition and turn the car back toward home.

* * *

I laugh softly and cover my face with a hand.

"Okay, that was funny," I admit to the grinning man sitting beside me. "But I bet you say that joke to all the girls."

I'm still putting on the shy act, the one that never fails to attract whoever I set my sights on. It's working like a charm on the man sitting beside me.

He continues laughing and calls the attention of the bartender. "Another martini for the _smoking_ hot lady."

"You know, I think if I have any more, I'm not going to be able to…" I shake my head and look him over again. "Unless… you want to give me a ride home? Are you free for dinner tonight, Clive?"

Even as the words come out of my mouth, they feel wrong. An annoyingly persistent worry is wriggling its way through my mind, but I try my best to ignore it.

Clive looks disappointed. "Oh, sorry… business meeting. But, how about you give me your number?" He takes a pen out of his pocket and hands it to me invitingly.

"Okay." I reach for a bar napkin to write on, but as soon as the pen touches the paper, I pause.

_What the hell am I doing?_ _Why am I picking up some random guy at a bar when the person I really want is somewhere else?_

"You know what, Clive? I think that you are just a really sweet and charming guy, but the truth is… I'm living with someone."

Clive gives me a regretful smile. "Well, whoever he is, he's one lucky guy."

In one smooth movement, he gets up from his seat and throws a few bills onto the bar before walking away.

I follow him to the exit with my eyes, my heart thumping hard in my chest. I can't quite believe what I just said. Did I actually just tell him that I'm _living_ with someone? Did I just imply that I'm in a relationship?

Once Clive disappears around the corner, I lean against the bar and rake my fingers through my hair in exasperation.

The bartender's snide voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Another martini?"

I lift my head to meet his gaze, a decision taking shape in my mind.

"No. I'm going home."

* * *

As I turn into the farmhouse driveway, I feel more confident than I have in days. Sure, I'm nervous about seeing Olivia again, especially after our fight earlier, but I'm also far more certain about how to handle things between us. This time, there isn't going to be any double-speak or running away. For once, I'm going to be honest about how I feel.

I turn off the car and saunter slowly up the walkway, taking a little extra time to gather my thoughts. I'm not sure what frame of mind Olivia is going to be in when I get inside, but I know I need to be prepared for anything.

When I try to open the door, I'm surprised to find it locked. Looking behind me, I suddenly realise that Olivia's car isn't in the driveway. She must have gone out after I left.

As I fiddle with the lock, I try to ignore the warning bells echoing quietly at the back of my mind.

_Where could she have gone?_

I step inside and call Olivia's name, even though I'm certain I'm not going to get a response. When I enter the living room, I see that her jacket and purse have disappeared. A frown creases my face as I turn on a single lamp beside the couch. I settle into the cushions and sigh wearily, trying to gather the patience to wait for Olivia.

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

I drive home in a daze, my mind reeling. I'm still having a hard time figuring out what I just told the handsome man at the bar: that I couldn't give him my number because I'm living with someone. It's the first time I've ever suggested to anyone else that my living arrangement with Natalia is based on something more than simple friendship.

But as much of a shock as it was to hear myself say those words, even more shocking was that I knew it was the truth. And that is the ultimate sign that my feelings for Natalia have gotten entirely out of hand. Hell, apparently I can't even pick up a guy at a bar anymore without feeling like I'm cheating on her.

The worst part is that at the very moment I turned down Clive's offer, Natalia was off on a date of her own with Frank. The unfairness of the situation cuts me to the core, and I know I have to do something about it. I can't spend the rest of my life pining after someone I'll never be able to have.

As I follow the familiar route back to the farmhouse, I try to work out a plan for what to do next. The first step is obvious: I have to move out immediately. As much as I hate the thought of uprooting Emma again, there is no way I can spend another day in such close proximity to Natalia. Staying there any longer is only going to ruin our friendship – or whatever is left of it after our last argument.

_Besides_, I convince myself as I pull into the driveway, _Natalia will be better off without me here, too_. Maybe this way she can really let herself be happy with Frank, without worrying about whatever is happening between the two of us.

I turn off the engine and stare through the windshield at the farmhouse. Not for the first time, I'm struck by the cosiness of the place, with its lights glowing warmly through the windows and a dusting of snow clinging to the roof.

It wasn't that long ago that I detested this house. I had resented the fact that it's stuck in the middle of nowhere, and the décor has always been far too rustic for my tastes. But now I feel an affinity for the place, not only because Emma has thrived here more than anywhere else we've ever lived, but also because it's where I feel like my life has finally begun to come together again. It's become my home.

_But not after tonight_, I remind myself.

Tears sting my eyes at the realisation that this will probably be the last night I spend here. I rest my head against the steering wheel, desperately trying to pull myself together before I go inside. After a couple of minutes I take a deep breath and get out of the car, wiping away the last remnant of a tear as I approach the front door.

I walk through the kitchen and breathe in the familiar scent of fresh herbs mixed with the lingering hint of the vanilla candles that Natalia likes so much – a pleasant mixture of fragrances that I've come to associate with this space. Tears threaten my eyes again, and I quicken my pace. All I want right now is to get to my bedroom and try to sleep. I'll deal with everything else tomorrow.

Turning the corner into the living room, I stop in my tracks when I see Natalia sitting tensely on the couch. The only light in the room comes from the lamp beside her, which casts a soft yellow glow over her face. Our eyes meet across the room and I watch as the corner of her mouth quirks into an uncertain, crooked smile. And, all at once, I know that my sadness has nothing to do with leaving the farmhouse – it's all about leaving her.

Any leftover anger from our earlier argument instantly disappears, and I'm left only with a familiar desire to be near her. I tilt my head and return her tentative grin, and my small gesture brings relief to her face.

"Hi," she says softly.

"Hi." I shrug out of my coat.

She's searching my face carefully. "Where did you go?"

"Out for a drink," I explain vaguely. "What are you doing home? I thought you'd still be with Frank."

She gazes at me for a long moment, apparently trying to settle on an answer. Finally she says, "I left early."

"Oh. Did Frank get a call from the station?"

"No." She breathes deeply. "Actually… I ended things with Frank."

"Really?" I can't deny the relief that floods through me at her revelation. Slowly, I cross the room to sit on the opposite end of the couch.

"It wasn't working out," she explains. "Frank's a great guy, but he's a friend – nothing more than that. So, I ended it. Besides, I wanted to come home and talk to you."

"You did?"

She nods. "I felt bad about… before."

I try to laugh, but it comes out sounding unnatural and awkward. "Uh, let's just forget about that, okay?"

She shakes her head and shifts slightly closer to me. Our eyes meet again and I feel as though an entire conversation passes between us in a matter of a moment.

"I shouldn't have reacted like that," she says quietly, her gaze sinking down to her hands, which are clasped together tightly on her lap.

"It's not your fault," I offer. "I was the one who dragged you into all of that with those women at Towers."

She glances up at me and a faint smile flickers across her lips. "You were just trying to defend your family."

Looking at Natalia now, I wouldn't know that she's the same person I confronted just a couple of hours ago. She seems nervous, but she also has a look of determination that I haven't seen in her lately. I have no idea what she wants to say to me, but suddenly I'm the one who is starting to feel uneasy.

"I realised something tonight," she continues when I don't respond.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"I realised that you were right."

"About what?"

"About me. That I've been so scared about what people think about us, about our living situation, about what we've created here, together… I've been such a coward."

I see tears shining in her eyes, and my heart aches at the sight. Instinctively, I move closer to her and cover her hands with my own.

"Hey, look, I shouldn't have said those things. Just because _I'm_ used to the whole town gossiping about me behind my back doesn't mean that you should be okay with them talking about you, too."

I'm relieved to hear her laugh softly at my weak attempt at humour.

"But I shouldn't be so wrapped up in what other people think," she insists. "That's not what's important." She turns one of her hands around to interlace her fingers with mine. "_This_ is important."

My stomach does a series of tiny somersaults when we lock eyes again, and I'm suddenly struck by the realisation that Natalia isn't just apologising to me as a friend. Her intention is something else entirely. Slowly and methodically, she is removing every single one of the barriers between us, exposing everything that we've worked so hard to hide from each other for weeks now. Already I can feel myself being swept up in the moment – but as much as I want this, warning bells are beginning to clang together at the back of my mind.

"Ever since Emma's school presentation, I've been so scared about this… us," Natalia continues. "And I've pushed you away." She slides even closer to me, and when she speaks again, her voice is soft, almost lilting. "I don't want to push you away anymore, Olivia."

We look at each other, and the silence between us quickly becomes unbearable. I know Natalia is waiting for me to respond, but I have no idea what to say. All I can think about right now is that we're about ten seconds away from changing our relationship forever. And, as much as I've fantasised about this exact scenario over the last few weeks, I feel terrified now that the possibility is sitting right in front of me. I'm convinced that I will mess this up, or worse, that Natalia and I will mess it up together. I can't bear the thought of sacrificing our friendship for something that might only cause both of us pain.

Unable to think of any way to shift our conversation to safer ground, I opt for deflection.

"Wow, it's getting late," I say, glancing down at my watch. "Can we talk about this tomorrow? I should really get to bed."

Pretending not to notice Natalia's surprised expression, I disentangle my hands from hers and practically leap off the couch.

"You're going to bed?" she asks in disbelief. "Right now?"

"Yeah," I say, cringing inwardly at the shakiness of my voice. "I've got a long day at work tomorrow."

"You don't have anything on for tomorrow," she challenges me.

_Dammit._ I forgot that she knows my schedule. Hell, she's the one who organises my itinerary everyday.

"Yeah, but, uh…," I search my mind frantically for a logical excuse. "Greg wants to meet with me to discuss some upcoming events in the hotel ballroom."

Slowly, Natalia gets up from the couch and crosses her arms in front of her chest. I can tell she's not buying anything I'm selling.

"He didn't say anything about that to me," she presses.

"It was kind of a last-minute request," I lie, avoiding her gaze as I move backward toward the stairs. "So, uh… goodnight."

"Olivia," she says firmly, stopping me in my tracks. I give her what I hope is an innocent look. "What are you doing?"

"Going to bed."

She takes a few steps toward me and shakes her head. "No, you're not."

I laugh incredulously. "Uh, _yeah_ I am."

But her next comment forces me to face her again. "Olivia, I know you. You're not going to bed: you're running away."

"Hey, I'm tired, okay?" I say defensively. "It's been a long day and I need to get some rest."

"We need to talk," she insists.

"Well, I don't _want_ to talk right now, alright?" I snap angrily. Spinning away from her, I mutter, "I'm going to bed."

But I don't make it up more than three steps before I feel Natalia's fingers gripping my forearm, pinning it against the banister. I turn around and am surprised to find her standing on the step just below the one I'm on. With my slight height advantage, I've got at least a foot on her, but the look she's giving me definitely evens the score. I've never been looked at like that in my entire life. Her eyes are flashing with anger, intensity, and something else that makes my heart pound in my ears.

"Olivia," she begins, drawing a little nearer. "We've got to stop running away from each other."

But, that's exactly what her words make me want to do. Right now, running away would be the simplest option, the one with the least complicated consequences.

_When have you ever chosen the least complicated option?_

I exhale loudly and tilt my head, finally meeting Natalia's gaze.

"Alright. What do you want to say to me, Natalia?"

She draws her bottom lip into her mouth nervously, and the action causes a dimple to appear in her cheek. My resolve falters, and I have to resist the urge to bend down and taste the lip she's tasting right now.

"I just…," she begins hesitantly. She shakes her head and heaves a frustrated sigh. "There's something… _happening_ between us," she finally says. She breaks her intense stare to look down at a worn piece of wood on the stair between us.

"Something happening between us?" I repeat, my voice sounding high and unnatural in my ears.

"Yeah," Natalia confirms, still concentrating on that spot of wood at our feet.

I decide to throw out the obvious answer, to see how she'll respond. "Well, we're friends."

That draws her eyes back to mine. We look at each other for a long moment, and she finally lightens her grip on my forearm – only to slowly and softly slide her fingers upward toward my shoulder. Even through the fabric of my shirt, her hand draws a trail of goosebumps along my arm, and my eyes flutter closed in spite of myself. And, in that brief, subtle moment, I know I've revealed every one of my feelings to her as loudly as any public declaration or romantic gesture ever could.

"We're not just friends," she murmurs, watching my reaction.

I open my eyes slowly. I can still feel the warmth of her hand against my shoulder, and I know that my desire for more is written all over my face. Finally I force myself to speak.

"What are we, then?"

As if in an unspoken response, Natalia's hand begins to draw a lazy pattern up my shoulder and toward my neck. I try to resist my urge to lean into her, but my body is rendered helpless by her touch. My pulse is thumping loudly in my ears, and I'm sure she feels it as her palm comes to rest against my side of my neck.

I don't know whether it's the quickened rhythm of my heartbeat or the look on my face, but suddenly Natalia appears more certain than I've ever seen her before. All my plans to run away and hide in my bedroom are forgotten as soon as she utters her reply.

"We're more than friends," she says. "Much more."

More than anything right now I want to pull her against me and show her just how right she is, but I know I have to at least point out the consequences of what she's suggesting.

"But… what about what you said earlier tonight about caring about what people think about us?"

Natalia searches my face for a moment before responding. "I've been thinking about that. The thing is, people are going to believe whatever they want to. I can't control that. And neither can you. All we can do is be happy. In the end, that's really all that matters."

She moves closer and begins to slide her fingers up the back of my neck and into my hair. All my rational thoughts are quickly evaporating under the persistence of her touch. Aware of the effect she's having on me, a smile slowly brightens her face.

"And you make me happy, Olivia," she continues. "You make me so happy."

I feel her fingers tense at the back of my neck as she begins to pull me down to her. Helplessly, I give in to the pressure of her hand, and our lips hover near each other for a second before I finally close the space between us.

Natalia's lips are as soft and warm as I remember, but this kiss is nothing like the one we shared after Emma's presentation. That was desperate, full of frustration, and all too quick; this is long and slow, soft and exploratory. Eventually, only our mutual need for air forces us to tear ourselves away from each other. We rest our foreheads gently together and exchange a shy smile. I place a hand against Natalia's cheek and revel in the warmth of her skin as she closes her eyes and leans into me.

"Ever since I kissed you a couple of weeks ago, I haven't been able to think about anything else," I confess.

She opens her eyes again and grins knowingly at me. "Me too."

I cup her face in both my hands and look at her intently. "Natalia, you know there will be problems that we'll have to face, right?"

She nods solemnly. "I know. But we'll face them together."

The simplicity of her words – and her implicit faith in us – brings tears to my eyes.

"Yes, we will," I reply resolutely. I place a soft kiss against her temple before meeting her gaze again. "But, you know that people will talk."

She smiles faintly and reaches up to grab the collar of my shirt. Then she pulls me a little closer, so that there are only a couple of inches separating us.

"So what?" she says quietly, repeating my weak debate point from our earlier argument.

"We'll have to deal with Alan's comments about providing a 'healthy' living environment for Emma," I point out, even as my eyes are drawn down again to her lips.

She shifts to her tiptoes in order to bring us even nearer. I'm convinced she's about to kiss me again, and my whole body aches with anticipation. But instead, she dips her head and presses her lips softly against my jaw.

"So what?" she murmurs playfully, drawing a trail of kisses along my neck. I lean into her and slide my hands around her waist, my thoughts instantly becoming less than coherent.

"We're… we're going to get a lot of stares from the Beacon staff," I say, and I'm surprised by how low and hoarse my voice suddenly sounds.

"So…" she whispers, but this time I don't let her finish. I bury my fingers in her hair and bend lower to crush my lips against hers, not caring about anything but having her as near me as possible. The passion of our embrace knocks us off balance, and we both slam clumsily into the banister beside us. Without breaking away from each other, we descend the stairs and move toward the couch, nearly tripping over the coffee table in our haste.

Finally we tumble together onto the couch in a tangle of arms and legs. Natalia positions herself on top of me and I run my fingers through her hair, exhilarated by the feeling of her body moulding into mine. Even though I know neither of us expected this to happen tonight, there is no question of stopping. This tension has been building steadily, stretching tautly between us for weeks – months, even – and right now we both need release.

Natalia moves restlessly on top of me, and I slip my hands under her shirt, suddenly needing to feel her naked skin. I brush my fingertips lightly over her breasts, and her shiver of pleasure sends a corresponding thrill through me.

But Natalia isn't content to let me take control. After a little while I realise that her hands are busy at my waist and, in a matter of moments, she's undone my belt and the zipper of my jeans. Before I fully realise what's happening, I feel her hand trailing over my stomach, working steadily downward. I have just enough time to be thankful that I chose to wear my lacy black underwear today instead of the comfy but ugly cotton ones I'd briefly considered this morning. But then all conscious thought is erased when I feel her fingers sliding against me, and I release a throaty moan against her mouth.

She breaks our kiss to meet my hooded gaze, a look of wonder crossing her face as she watches me react to her touch. Her hand stills, and she suddenly seems hesitant, almost shy.

"What is it?"

"I just…," she shakes her head and smiles. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"I'm not so sure about that," I reply hoarsely, arching my back into her touch. This draws a soft, low laugh from her, and she dips her head to bring our lips together again in a slow, deep kiss. I stretch one hand down between us and cover her fingers with my own, pressing her more firmly against me. Our hands begin to move together in a steady rhythm, and soon she slips one finger inside of me, then another, and I let my hand fall away, surrendering myself completely to her. I wrap my arms around her waist and she buries her face against the crook of my neck.

"Wait," I gasp, even as my body disobeys my words by pressing more tightly against her.

Natalia's hand doesn't stop moving, but she lifts her head from my neck to look down at me. Her expression alone nearly undoes me – she looks like she's feeling exactly the way I am, and I've barely touched her yet. It's only then that I realise vaguely that we both still have all our clothes on.

"Why?" she finally murmurs.

"I want…" I try to bring my thoughts together in a sentence, but it's becoming more and more difficult as her hand continues its rhythmic pace against me. "I want this to be perfect," I finally manage to say.

She smiles and dips lower to bring our lips together again.

"This _is_ perfect," she whispers against my mouth. "Completely perfect."

Then she draws me into another passionate kiss, and all my protests are instantly forgotten. She quickens her pace as her whole body moves against me, and I give in to the sensations of her fingers moving inside of me, her legs pressed tightly around my thigh, and her increasingly frantic kiss. My nails rake down her back and, for one thick, perfect moment I feel as though she has touched the very core of me. Then, all at once my entire body is building, cresting, shattering against her, and I release a wordless cry against her neck.

She holds onto me tightly until I'm finally still. Then she lifts her head and smiles down at me.

"That was…" she trails off, and shakes her head in amazement.

"Perfect," I finish, reaching up to bring her lips to mine again. For a few minutes I'm lost in her kiss, and I can feel my body already beginning to thrum with new anticipation. Reluctantly, I pull away and grin up at her.

"Wow," she sighs happily before uttering a low laugh. "Did that really just happen?"

I chuckle softly and nod. "Yep, I think it did."

"Wow," she repeats.

Sliding out from under her, I get up from the couch, and laugh at my still-wobbly legs.

"Okay, you know what I think?" I say.

"What?" Resting her head against a crooked arm, she flashes a warm smile up at me.

I bend down to take her hand.

"I think we need to do that again – in a bed this time."

Her low murmur of laughter is all the agreement I need to hear. I squeeze her hand and pull her with me up the stairs.

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"I think we need to do that again - in a bed this time."

Smiling my agreement, I take Olivia's hand and she leads me up the stairs. My body is still wound tightly from our session on the couch, and the image of Olivia lying underneath me, her head thrown back as her whole body tensed against me, are only making me more impatient to experience that feeling all over again.

But Olivia seems to have other plans. As soon as we enter my bedroom, she pushes the door shut behind me and I find myself being thrust back against it. In one smooth movement, she pulls my sweater up over my head and tosses it behind us. Then suddenly her lips are everywhere: my neck, my breasts, and finally my mouth.

I reach down to start untucking her shirt from her jeans, but she halts my progress by grabbing my hands and pushing them hard against the door. Quiet laughter shakes her body when I groan in protest.

"Not fair," I declare weakly.

I struggle briefly against her grip, but it's a half-hearted gesture. I'm too engrossed in the feeling of her moving against me to put up much of a fight.

I've spent most of my life convincing myself that Nicky was the love of my life, but he never made me feel like this. This is pure need and want – it is me writhing helplessly against a door because I can't get close enough to the person I want most in this world.

Eventually, Olivia loosens her grip on my wrists long enough for me to free them, and I tangle both hands in her hair while her lips trace a path down my chest. She reaches behind me and, after a couple of unsuccessful tries which draw gentle laughter from both of us, she finally manages to unhook my bra. Then she slowly pulls the straps down my arms and tosses the garment into the rapidly growing pile on the floor behind us.

Gradually, she kisses her way down my stomach and bends to her knees to undo my jeans. She flashes a sultry smile up at me as I wriggle out of them with her help. Slowly, she stands up again, running her hands along the sides of my legs and my hips as she rises. Her eyes glide over my entire body until she meets my gaze again.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" she whispers, and my face reddens under her appreciative stare.

Instead of answering her, I pull her closer and press our lips together again, communicating with my bruising kiss all the things I can't find words to express. As soon as I hear her low moan, I begin to unbutton her shirt. It's barely open before she pushes the full length of her body against me, and we both gasp quietly with the first contact of our naked skin. I pull her shirt off her shoulders and it drops to the floor.

Taking both my hands in hers, she begins moving backward, pulling me with her. Then she turns me around and guides me down so that I'm sitting on the edge of the bed. I watch, entranced, as she kneels on the floor in front of me. She is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen – the most amazing person I've ever known – and the look she's giving me makes my head spin. I reach forward, hoping to tempt her to join me on the bed, but she resists with a shake of her head. Her hands slide down my bare stomach until her fingers hook inside the waist of my underwear, and she pulls that final piece of clothing down my legs.

I suddenly feel anxious, almost scared, but exhilarated all at once. I can't pretend that I haven't played out this exact scenario in my mind countless times over the last few weeks – it has haunted both my waking and sleeping life. For a brief, horrible moment I wonder whether all of this is just another dream, another tortured fantasy that will dissolve in front of me like every other one has.

My thoughts must be written on my face because a faint, reassuring smile flickers across Olivia's lips.

"It's okay," she murmurs, and her throaty voice glides over my body like a caress. I never knew I could be so turned on by the simple sound of a voice before. It travels through me like a musical note discovering its matching pitch.

"Lean back," she commands, and I do it. At this moment, I think I would do anything she asks me to. I rest on my elbows and watch her as she guides my legs apart. As irrational as it is, I can't completely shake the fear that this is an illusion that could vanish right before my eyes, and I want to burn this image in my memory before it's gone.

But, any doubts I had about the reality of what's happening disappear as soon as she dips her head and begins kissing the inside of my thigh. Slowly, she works her way upward, hooking one arm under my knee to bring me closer to her. Finally I feel her lips on me and I throw my head back as my whole body reacts to the sensation.

"Oh my god, Olivia," I gasp.

She grips my hips to steady me until I begin to relax against her mouth. Then, she resumes her languorous exploration, and the ache that has been growing inside of me all night quickly becomes agonising. When I feel her tongue on me for the first time, I release a helpless moan as all coherent thoughts disappear, and I collapse back onto the bed. I have a hazy notion that my writhing body is no longer under my control, that I've given myself over completely to Olivia. I feel utterly consumed by her, and it's the most intimate and freeing experience I've ever shared with anyone before.

I want to make this moment last for as long as possible, but my body isn't cooperating. Already I can feel myself beginning to slip over the edge, and Olivia seems to sense it too, because she quickens her pace. My hands seek something to hold onto, and I grip the edge of the bed with one while the other reaches down to tangle itself in Olivia's hair as a series of intense shudders wrack my entire body. I hear long, loud moans echoing through the room, and it takes a minute to realise that they're coming from me.

Slowly, I come back to myself and to Olivia, who is kissing her way up my stomach. I reach down and pull her on top of me, sighing happily when I feel our bare skin connect again. She buries her face in the crook of my neck and we hold each other tightly, with only the sound of our laboured breathing filling the room.

It's only then that I become aware that Olivia still has her jeans and bra on, and I laugh quietly as I realise that neither of us will be getting much sleep tonight.

As if sensing my thoughts, Olivia lifts her head and looks down at me with more than a trace of pride.

"So, that was… good?"

"Um, yeah, I'd say that was more than good. That was…," I shake my head, searching for the right word. "I don't know, I… I've never felt anything like that before."

My face reddens at my confession, but Olivia nods her understanding before she leans down to capture my lips in an almost reverential kiss. When she pulls away, her teasing grin has returned.

"You know what? I _finally_ see the benefit of living in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere: no neighbours to wake up. Though I suppose the ducks got an earful…"

I slap her shoulder playfully. "I wasn't _that_ loud… was I?"

"Let's just say it's a good thing that Emma is having a sleepover at Jodie's tonight," Olivia chuckles. "Otherwise, we might have scarred her for life."

"Oh my god," I moan quietly, covering my face with one hand. I can't really remember anything about the last few minutes but the feeling of Olivia's mouth moving against me. The memory instantly sends more tremors through my body, and I shift underneath her to press us more closely together. Smiling my intentions up at her, I reach down between us and begin undoing her jeans.

"Hey, you know what?"

She lifts herself a little to give me better access to her zipper.

"What?" she asks. Her voice has resumed that low and gravelly pitch that I love.

"I think it's your turn to wake the ducks."

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

I awake to a sense of absolute contentment. For the first time in ages, I feel utterly warm and safe. Happy, even.

Opening my eyes, I soon discover why: my entire body is intertwined with Natalia's. Our limbs are so entangled that I can't be immediately certain which are mine and which are hers.

As my mind slowly begins to work out the puzzle before me, my eyes are drawn upward by Natalia's low laugh. I could listen to that sound all day: I've always loved it, but now I feel intimately connected to it. Overnight, every bit of her – her laugh, her body, her voice – all of it has become part of me.

I give her a lazy smile and stretch languidly. The movement makes me realise that part of my body is still asleep, and I can feel pinpricks making their way through my left leg as I adjust myself. But I have no complaints: being this near to Natalia is certainly worth any physical discomfort. I would happily put up with far worse if I could just wake up like this every morning for the rest of my life.

"Hi," she says softly.

"Good morning," I reply, brushing my lips over hers.

"I still can't quite believe this happened," she says, her body shaking with more quiet laughter.

"Me neither," I admit. "But here we are."

I shift closer to her and nuzzle her neck before I begin to trace light kisses along her collarbone. Her sigh of approval is all the encouragement I need. Luckily the top half of my body hasn't lost any circulation in the night, so I shift onto my hands in order to position myself above her, with our legs enmeshed under the sheets. We've spent most of the night making love, but I still don't feel like I've had enough of her. I wonder whether I ever will.

"Here we are," she repeats, giving me a sultry look.

Before last night, I never realised Natalia knew how to give anyone that kind of look. To be honest, I hadn't been all that certain that she liked sex. But now I know she is quite capable of being sultry. She's quite capable of anything.

I bend down and kiss her with a feathery light touch, each of us content to tease out the moment. After a while, she wraps her arms around my shoulders and draws me down on top of her. As we begin to fall into a natural rhythm together, I find myself wishing that I could bottle this moment and all its heady sensations: the feeling of Natalia's naked skin against my own, the warmth of our bodies pressed together, the touch of her lips, the way she tastes.

As I let myself become absorbed by all of those feelings, I'm startled by a sudden revelation:

_I'm falling in love with her._

I pull away slightly to look down at her smiling face, and I can feel the words on the tip of my tongue. I take a deep breath, and I'm about to speak them out loud, but at the last second I swallow them. There will be plenty of time for those sorts of confessions. For now I just want to enjoy this moment with her.

"Happy Valentine's Day," she whispers.

My eyes instantly snap open at her words.

"Oh, shit!" I yell, jumping up.

"What is it?" she asks, sitting up beside me. She looks utterly confused.

I say nothing as she searches my eyes, but my expression tells her everything she needs to know.

"Oh, shit!" she echoes as she scrambles out of bed. "Valentine's Day! Emma wanted us to help her to make cards for her class this morning!"

"Yeah, and she's supposed to be back from Jodie's in…," I check Natalia's alarm clock. "Fifteen minutes ago."

"Oh god!" Natalia cries, taking in our nakedness in one quick glance. "Clothes!" she declares. "We need clothes!"

She spins away from me and starts frantically picking up our discarded garments from the floor. A grin creeps across my face as I watch her. She tosses my jeans and shirt at me before stopping to take in my amused expression.

"Are you laughing at me right now?" she asks incredulously, her hand poised on her hip.

"No… well, yeah, kind of," I smirk. "Sorry, but you're cute when you're crazy."

She shoots me an admonishing look, and I have to bite the insides of my cheeks to stop myself from bursting into more laughter as I sort through my clothes. After all, Natalia's right: the last thing either of us needs is my daughter storming into the bedroom right now.

I throw on my jeans and shirt from the night before and turn back to face Natalia again. I don't even bother to hide my mirth at the sight that greets me: in her haste, Natalia's arms and head have become hopelessly tangled inside her sweater. She's struggling to free herself, but she's only succeeding in getting more wrapped up in the fabric.

"Mmmph!" she mumbles angrily.

"What was that?" I ask playfully, leaning slightly closer to her. "I couldn't quite make that out."

"MMMPH!" she says, louder this time, but no more intelligibly. Her arms flail helplessly, and I finally take mercy on her by untwisting the sweater until she's able to put it on properly.

She blows a haughty puff of air to move the hair out of her face. Then she greets my widening grin with a deep frown.

"You know, _I_ learned to dress myself when I was three," I tease. "But don't worry; you'll get the hang of it eventually."

"Hey, I was in a hurry, okay?" she huffs.

Unable to resist the embarrassed look on her face, I bend down and wrap my arms around her waist.

"You're completely adorable, do you know that?"

Her expression instantly softens, so I pull her closer and place a gentle kiss against her lips. I had planned for it to be a chaste peck, but as soon as I feel her lips part against mine, I'm lost in the sensation. She buries her fingers in my hair, and we instinctively begin to move toward the bed again. Without warning, my leg slams against the edge of the bed and we tumble backwards together.

But, a minute later, the sound of the front door slamming shut brings us both to full attention.

"Mommy?" Emma's voice echoes up the stairs.

"Dammit," I mutter as Natalia rolls off of me. She covers her eyes with her hand and laughs.

"I'm coming, honey!" I call out as I get up from the bed.

"Well, you definitely will be later."

Natalia's soft comment draws a surprised chuckle from me. I had no idea she could be such a flirt, but I'm beginning to enjoy it.

"I'll hold you to that," I tell her as I head toward the door. "But first, I'll go see what Emma has planned for her valentines."

"Okay, I'll just take a minute to run a brush through my hair, and then I'll be right down."

She glances at her reflection in the nearby mirror and laughs at the tangled mess of her hair.

"Um, I might need more than a minute," she amends.

"You're beautiful." Our eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror and I smile shyly. "Just as you are."

She flashes me a bright, happy grin, and I know I have to escape right now before I completely forget about my daughter downstairs.

"I'll see you in a bit."

After making a quick stop at the bathroom to brush my teeth, I run down the stairs to look for Emma. I can hear her rustling around in the kitchen, so I head in that direction. When I enter, I see that she's already retrieved the bag of markers and construction paper that we bought the other day to make the valentines for her class.

"Hey, my little munchkin." I give her a quick hug. "How was your sleepover?"

"Good," she replies. "We watched _Ice Age_ on Jodie's big screen TV."

"Wow, that's pretty cool. How many times have you seen that movie?"

Emma tilts her head, calculating quietly. "Twenty-four," she says. "But I haven't seen it on a big screen before." She stretches her arms out as far as they'll reach. "It was thiiiiis big. Even bigger than that!"

"Well, I'm glad you had such a fun night." I begin to help her organise the art supplies on the table.

"Did you and Natalia have a fun night, too?"

Emma's voice is innocent, but my face instantly flushes at her words. Needing a quick distraction, I empty the contents of the bag onto the table and sit down next to her.

"Yeah, we did. So, uh, what's the plan here, Em?"

"We're making pink hearts for the girls and red hearts for the boys."

"Oooh, very nice." I pile some markers and highlighters in front of her.

"Make some room for Natalia!" Emma demands, pushing the markers out of the way.

I grin at her as I help clear out a space beside me.

"Okay, sweetie, how's that?"

"Perfect."

As if on cue, I hear Natalia's footsteps on the stairs. In a moment, she appears in the kitchen doorway, her hair now looking immaculate. She smiles at me, and I have to force myself to look away. We haven't talked about how or when we're going to explain things to Emma, but I can't help wondering whether my daughter will be able to sense any changes between us.

"Natalia!" Emma cries happily as soon as she sees her. "Look what I made!"

Natalia shifts her attention to the heart Emma is holding up.

"Wow, that looks great!"

"Can you do those little cut thingies like you did one time?"

"The little cut thingies?" she repeats, clearly searching for the answer to Emma's riddle. Suddenly, her eyes light up. "Oh, you mean like, fringe? Sure, I can do that."

Natalia settles onto the chair beside me, and we each grab a pair of scissors to work on making fringed hearts. After a few minutes, Emma cuts out a red heart and holds it up, contemplating it for a moment. She turns to me, her face suddenly full of fear and uncertainty.

"Do you need a new heart every year?" she asks softly.

I hear Natalia take a deep, shuddering breath beside me, and instinctively I reach for her under the table, gripping her knee reassuringly. Then, I take the paper heart out of Emma's hand and hold it up in front of my face.

"No, I get to keep this one. Here," I grab Emma's hand and press it firmly against my chest, "feel it." I tap her hand rhythmically against my heart. "Bup-bum, bup-bum… you feel it beating?" She nods. "That's because it's really strong. And I'm going to be around for a very long time." I release her hand and display the paper heart again.

"So, can I keep this?" I ask.

"You said you didn't need it!" Emma protests.

Natalia releases a watery laugh beside me, and when I glance at her I see that her eyes are brimming with tears. I wipe her cheek with my thumb before turning back to my daughter.

"I know, but it's really nice, and I want it." I reach forward and squeeze Emma's cheeks gently. "All I really need is you." I turn to meet Natalia's smile. "You and Natalia. You're my family, and I love you so much."

"I love you too, Mom," Emma replies.

Tears spring to my eyes at the simple honesty of her answer. "I know," I whisper.

"Okay," Natalia says brightly in an effort to lighten the mood. "So, I think we've got enough hearts here. Should we start putting your classmates' names on them?"

"That's a great idea," I agree. "Emma said she wants to give red hearts to the boys and pink hearts to the girls."

Emma reaches for a large red heart and holds it up for our inspection.

"This one is special," she admits quietly. "It's for Stephen."

Natalia and I exchange a look. "Stephen? Who's Stephen?"

"He's a boy that I met at school," Emma explains. "My funny… my tummy goes funny…" she trails off shyly.

"Funny feeling?" I supply. "Yeah, you mean like butterflies?"

"You know that feeling?"

"I know it well," I reply, suddenly feeling shy myself as I look down at the paper in front of me. I'm certain my face is growing as red as the heart Emma's holding in her hands.

_Oh god, I look like a schoolgirl with a crush_, I realise with a vague sense of horror.

"Okay," Natalia says, and I'm grateful when she shifts the focus back to Emma. "How about we make a pretty little butterfly on that one then? I'll help you draw it."

She reaches across the table to grab a marker, but just then, her cell phone rings.

"Sorry." She glances at the caller ID and her face falls. "Oh, it's Frank."

My smile instantly freezes as I find myself trying to suppress a sudden wave of jealousy. Despite being a detective, Frank isn't exactly known for his skills of perception, so it's certainly not out of the realm of possibility that he's calling to ask Natalia out on another date. I begin to wonder how she would respond, but I try to shake away the thought. After the night we just shared together, I can't imagine she's going to be running off with Frank anytime soon.

Still, my insecurities aren't easily conquered, and my hand falls away from her knee as she gets up to answer the phone.

"Hello," she says, her back to me. "What's wrong?" I hear her suck in a quick breath of air. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Frank. Can I do anything?... Okay, right. Well, call me when you know anything, okay?"

She hangs up and turns back around to meet my gaze. I know instantly that something terrible has happened, and I can sense that she doesn't want to tell me about it with Emma listening.

"Emma, I'm just going to go grab some more markers from the other room, okay?" I say, getting up quickly from the table.

"Okay, Mommy," she says absently. She is completely focused on perfecting the butterfly she's attempting to draw on Stephen's valentine.

I walk into the living room with Natalia, and we both wait to speak until we're a safe distance from the kitchen.

"What happened?"

"Coop was in a car accident," she explains. "And Frank says it's really bad. He's just out of surgery, but I don't think they know…"

"Oh my god," I groan.

"I know."

"So, I should call him. I should see if I could do something…?"

"I don't know, I got the feeling that it was a little hectic. You know, maybe we should just wait for…"

At that moment, her cell phone rings again.

"It's Frank," she says.

"Oh, gosh," I whisper. "I hope it's good news, please…"

Natalia nods at me as she answers. "Hi Frank, how's Coop? Uh, yeah, she's right here, do you want me to…" she trails off and looks at me again, her eyes wider this time. When she next speaks, her tone is far more hesitant. "Okay, yeah. I will tell her. Bye."

She hangs up and stares at the phone in her hand, avoiding my gaze.

"Did he want to talk to me?"

"He had to leave the hospital to go make an arrest—"

"Okay," I interrupt. "But I don't understand…"

Natalia exhales heavily and stares at me for a long moment before speaking. She seems to be deciding how to break some awful piece of news to me, and I brace myself for whatever she's about to say.

But nothing prepares me for the next words that come out of her mouth.

"Olivia… Phillip Spaulding is back."

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

I'm still reeling as I stride into my bedroom, with Natalia right behind me. Her words continue to echo in my head like a maddening chant.

_Phillip Spaulding is back._

It's all too insane to comprehend. All I can think is, _why now?_ Why, after all this time, did Phillip decide to stroll back into town? Just when my life was finally getting back on track, just when I was feeling more content and happy than at any time in my life before…

_You stopped watching for that brick flying at your head_, I remind myself. _And now you're paying for it._

My thoughts are travelling at a million miles an hour, but I can only mutter a single disjointed, stammering sentence.

"Okay, Emma, um, I've gotta, um…"

Once we're both inside my bedroom, Natalia swings the door shut behind me. She watches me carefully for a moment before we both start speaking at the same time.

"You can't go down there, or else you're going to scare her—"

"No, I have to get her out of town—"

We stop and stare at each other. Her look is pleading.

"Oh please, just calm down," she says.

"You don't understand. He kidnapped her once before. He almost got away with it. If he had taken her away, I never would have seen her again. He's been gone all these years and now he's _back_?"

"Okay, well Frank is arresting him right now!" she proclaims, as if that solves everything.

_Frank? Like Frank is going to be able to fix any of this._

"It's not going to matter!" I yell. "He's like Alan; he's going to get away with everything. You don't understand."

I begin pacing the room, but it's too small to expel the nervous energy that's building inside of me. I stop at the foot of the bed and turn to face Natalia again.

"He was ruthless before he got sick, but when he left he was dangerous."

"Okay, maybe it's different now, but he's gonna be in jail."

"No, it's not different!"

I know Natalia is trying to reassure me, but her naïveté is starting to drive me crazy. Doesn't she understand just how precarious our situation is? It was bad enough before, but given what's happening between us now, the stakes on all sides are that much higher. Now, Phillip – and Alan for that matter – have all the ammunition they need to take Emma away from me.

I wrack my brain to think of a way to make her grasp just how insane my ex-husband really is. Finally, I remember something that she'll be able to connect with.

"Harley's house. Did Gus ever tell you why he was building that for her?"

She shakes her head. "I don't… I don't know…"

"Phillip levelled the house with a bulldozer," I explain. "He wanted to level Company, he wanted to level all of Springfield and rebuild everything. He thinks the mothers of his children are all unfit to raise them. This coming from the guy who ploughed down his own son's house." I can feel myself getting more and more frantic. "And the timing of this? You think this is coincidental? It's not! Alan comes in here, and he's blasting us for our living arrangement?"

Recognition begins to dawn on Natalia's face, but I continue, desperate to drive the point home.

"He's concerned for Emma? And then all of a sudden Phillip is back? So what if Alan brings Phillip back to town to take Emma away from me? I won't let that happen. I swear to you, I will kill him for real this time."

She looks at me anxiously, and I think I've finally made her understand the danger of our situation. I move away from her to the other side of the room to try to gather my thoughts. Above all else, right now I need a plan.

"Alright, you should get packed," I say, as an idea starts to take shape in my mind. "You take Emma and you, you get her out of town, okay?" Natalia shakes her head, but I ignore her. "And then you call me and you tell me where she is and then I will meet up with you, okay? I just… I just need time to get a gun."

"A _gun_? No, no, no!" Natalia repeats incredulously.

I shush her so that Emma doesn't overhear our argument. But my terror is suffocating me, and my words start coming out in hitching gasps.

"Just for security, okay? I just… need to get out of town, out of the country…"

_This is insane_. _What the hell do you think you're doing?_

"Oh, you're talking crazy, Olivia," Natalia says, giving voice to my thoughts.

I know she's right, but I can't stop. Suddenly, the reality of Phillip's return to Springfield is just too much to bear.

"I need to figure out what to do!" I shout. "I don't know what to do!"

My hands are clenched at my sides and helpless tears sting my eyes. I'm certain that I'm about to shatter into a million pieces in front of her.

But then, in a few quick paces, she closes the space between us and takes my hands in hers.

"Olivia _stop_ it," she commands in her most authoritative voice. She rubs her thumbs against the tops of my hands. "I know you're scared. You have every reason to be scared. But you're working yourself up, and you're going to get sick, and you're going to scare your daughter."

I heave a frustrated sigh. I know she's right, but my fear is overwhelming. At this moment, the only thing tethering me to reality is the feeling of Natalia's hands wrapped around mine. She continues rubbing her thumbs slowly over my skin, and after a few seconds I start to calm down.

"You can't make decisions right now," she continues. "You just… you can't think straight."

I can't help laughing at her turn of phrase.

"That's one way of putting it."

"You know what I mean," she smiles. "You're not going anywhere. You shouldn't go _anywhere_. You have me."

I close my eyes as more tears spill down my cheeks. I've never been so grateful to hear anything in my life.

"Let me be strong for you, okay?" she continues reassuringly. "I promise you: we are not going to let anything happen to your little girl. Trust me."

She pushes some errant hair away from my face, and I lift my head to meet her gaze again.

"So, take a deep breath," she instructs, and I do it. "And _trust_ me."

She shifts closer and slides one hand to the base of my neck, pulling me into a fleeting but firm kiss. Even though my heart is still racing with the terror of the moment, the feeling of her lips against mine settles me. Natalia has an uncanny ability to make even the most hopeless circumstances seem somehow manageable. She did it for me before when I suffered through my heart surgery and its aftermath, and she's doing it for me again right now.

I inhale deeply to breathe in Natalia's warmth, her steadiness. It's like an airy elixir, and I close my eyes to let it flow through me. After a few seconds, she speaks softly.

"Look at me… look at my eyes. What do you see?"

I meet her gaze obediently. Her eyes are filled with such intensity, I can't imagine looking at anything else.

"Someone who's strong and loyal," I answer quietly. "Someone I can count on. Someone…"

"Say it," Natalia encourages, squeezing my hands tenderly.

I'm torn. I want to say, _someone I'm falling in love with_, but, like earlier this morning, I stop myself just before the words come out of my mouth. Now is definitely _not_ the time for that sort of confession. Instead I shake my head.

"I can't."

"Yes you can," Natalia counters. "You can because I feel the same way."

My heart leaps into my throat. "You do?"

"I can trust you with my life," she says, her voice sincere. "And I hope that you feel you can do the same."

She looks like she's about to say something else, but just then we hear a loud crash coming from the kitchen. My head snaps up as terror spills over me again.

"Emma!"

I push by Natalia and run down the stairs, taking them two at a time. My mind is already flashing horrific images of Phillip bursting through the door to take my little girl.

But when we enter the kitchen, the sight that greets us is far less dramatic: Emma is crouched on the floor, picking up some of the markers she's tipped off the table.

"Emma, you have to be more careful with your things," I admonish her, crossing the room to help her gather the markers. My voice is shrill, and I try to cover it with a half smile. But I'm not fooling my daughter.

"Are you mad at me, Mommy?" she asks, giving me a plaintive look.

"Mommy's not mad at you," Natalia answers for me from the other side of the kitchen. "She's just got a lot on her mind."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" I glare at her.

She tries to soothe me with a look, but it only agitates me more.

"A certain… _visitor_ back in town?" she says pointedly.

_What the hell is she trying to pull?_ _Could she be any more obvious?_

"Emma, why don't you finish your valentines?" I suggest.

Emma points to the pile of paper hearts in front of her. "They're already done. I'm ready to deliver them."

"We're not going to do that… we're not going out, okay? You're just going to have to—" Emma tries to protest, but I talk over her. "—give them to your friends at school!"

My voice rises to a shout and I glance helplessly at Natalia, who is giving me a warning look. I'm aware that my behaviour is going to make Emma suspicious, but all I care about right now is making sure she's safe.

I sigh and lean back on my heels, punching my thigh in quiet frustration. Emma gives me a puzzled look, but she stays silent.

Finally, I force myself to meet Natalia's eyes again, and she motions toward the alcove between the kitchen and the living room. I walk to her and we huddle together in the small space. As I lean against the wall behind me, Natalia steps closer and runs her hand down my arm.

"You can't keep her locked in the house forever," she points out. "He's been arrested. He's behind bars."

"He'll get out of jail," I argue. "It's a family talent."

I rub my thumb and index finger along the bridge of my nose, trying to stop the headache that's suddenly pounding behind my eyes.

"Okay then," Natalia concedes. "I will go see Frank."

_She's leaving me for Frank? Again?_

As selfish as it might be, for me the Coopers' tragedy has taken a backseat to the threats facing my own family. But Natalia's priorities appear to be very different. And right now, my fury at the injustice of it all – Coop's accident, Phillip's return, Frank's persistence – needs a target.

"Just go!" I snap bitterly. "If you want to see Frank, just say so."

Anger flashes in her eyes. "Where did _that_ come from? I'm trying to help you."

Regret instantly washes over me, but I'm too upset to explain myself.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm sorry, just go."

I push by her and return to the table with Emma. I can feel Natalia's eyes burning into the back of my head, but I refuse to meet her gaze.

Eventually, I hear her get her coat out of the closet. A few seconds later, the front door slams shut and I close my eyes.

_Smooth_, I mock myself. _There's one person in this town who actually wants to help you, and you've just pushed her out the door. _

"What's wrong, Mommy?" Emma asks, her face full of worry.

"Nothing, Em," I lie. "Mommy just has a bit of a headache."

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

I drive back to the farmhouse in a daze. Glancing at the clock, I'm shocked to discover it's just before noon. Already this day feels like one of the longest of my life – and it's still only morning.

_And to think that I woke up today as happy as I've ever been_.

It was a moment I'd longed for for far too many weeks – maybe even months: Olivia's body draped lazily over my own, her arms wrapped around me, the way she tightened her grip on my hips just before she woke up. It was perfect.

But then life had intervened, as it so often does. First came Coop's awful car accident, and then the terrifying news that Phillip Spaulding was back in town. One thing piled onto another, and suddenly it had all been too much to bear, both for Olivia and for me.

Almost immediately, we'd fallen back into old habits: Olivia lashed out at me, and I ran away. Worse, I'd let my frustration with her – her self-destructive need to push me away, her talent for getting under my skin – overwhelm my fears for her safety.

Even though I don't know the whole history of Olivia's relationship with Phillip, I've heard enough about the man to know that he's trouble. And, as much as I'd like to, I can't deny Olivia's point that the timing of his return to Springfield is suspicious.

_And yet, you left Olivia and Emma all alone at the farmhouse, just because you were angry._

I press a little harder on the gas. I'm well past the speed limit, but there are no other cars on the road and I know this route like the back of my hand. As long as I don't meet any police along the way, I should be home in five minutes.

As I drive, my mind flashes back to the scene I just left at the hospital. On my way there, I had picked up some sandwiches, but I might as well have brought the Coopers a pile of sawdust for all the good it did. Sitting helplessly in the waiting area outside Coop's room, I watched them all slowly falling apart. Everything I said felt wrong, like I was just reciting a bunch of empty clichés and hollow prayers.

After all, I knew exactly what they were going through. Almost a year ago, I was the one praying over a man's broken, dying body, and hoping for a miracle that never came.

_Or_, I correct myself, _a miracle that came in a different form than you expected_.

I grip the steering wheel more tightly as I let my thoughts drift back to that difficult time. Never in my life had the saying "God works in mysterious ways" been truer than during those days between Nicky's accident and my decision to give Olivia his heart. That was one of the most gut-wrenching choices I ever had to make, and it hadn't come easily.

As much as I'd like to forget it now, I can't deny that I gave serious thought to letting Olivia die instead of giving her the heart she so desperately needed. In the immediate aftermath of the accident, I had blamed her for what happened. After all, Nicky had been speeding to find her when he crashed. I was convinced she had taken everything from us – from _me_ – and I was determined not to let her take one more thing.

In the end, it wasn't my feelings for Olivia that made me give her Nicky's heart – all of that would come later. It was watching Emma visiting her in the hospital. The idea that that sweet little girl would grow up without a mother, simply because of my own selfish need for revenge, was too much to bear.

I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that the moment I chose to help Olivia stay alive was the same moment she decided to give up and die. But, in a strange way, that's exactly what saved Olivia: her constant desire to die only motivated me to keep her alive. And, in the end, my persistence won out. Despite the bitter, angry hopelessness that threatened to swallow Olivia whole, my stubborn presence ultimately forced her to come back to life.

In the process, and without me even realising it, she brought me back to life as well.

Now, almost a year later, I feel completely united with her: mind, body, and soul. It is at once the most intense and the most terrifying connection I've ever shared with another person in my life. Even my feelings for Nicky don't come close to touching this. That was a fantasy love built on imaginary promises and teenage lust; this is a real love built on the trials of life and an unshakable trust.

_Not that there isn't also lust_, I smile to myself. But, it is a completely different sort of lust. I don't just want Olivia: I crave her presence. Even before I knew what to call it, I needed to be near her. I've always wanted to breathe her air and feel her touch, even when it was offered chastely and with no expectations. That's why I finally had to leave the hospital: I felt that invisible thread pulling me to Olivia.

As I turn into the driveway, I'm relieved when I don't see any immediate signs of danger: no broken windows, no fire, and no bulldozer about to tear down our house.

_Thank God._

I breathe easier when I push open the door to the kitchen and see the pile of valentines stacked neatly on the table. There's an open bottle of red wine on the counter, but Olivia's only had a glass. It's a little early for drinking, even by her standards. Luckily, she must have realised the same thing because the kettle has been boiled, and there's a faint smell of tea in the room. All of this hits me like a breath of reassuring air: proof that nothing horrible has happened while I was gone.

As I begin unbuttoning my jacket, my cell phone rings. I look at the caller ID and my heart drops when I see it's Frank.

"Hi Frank. Is there any news about Coop?"

"No, he's still the same," Frank replies. "I'm just calling to tell you that Phillip has been arrested."

Relief instantly floods over me. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear that."

"I knew you would be," he says. "And I thought you'd want to let Olivia know."

"I'm home now, so I'll tell her," I reply. "Thanks, Frank. Keep me updated on Coop, okay?"

I hang up as I turn the corner into the living room, where I find Olivia sitting in the rocking chair with a cup of tea in her hands.

"Hi, uh…" She looks down guiltily. "I thought you were staying at the hospital."

I perch on the edge of the coffee table in front of her and offer her a faint, crooked smile. "Well, you can relax. Phillip is in jail."

She releases a long, slow exhalation. "How's Frank?"

"I brought the Coopers some sandwiches," I shrug.

As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I realise I'm avoiding her question. It's my trick for pushing away anything too personal: shift the subject to something else. Sandwiches are easier to talk about than death, so I talk about sandwiches.

I meet Olivia's searching gaze and slump a little.

"It was really hard being there," I admit quietly.

Recognition dawns all at once on Olivia's face. "Oh my gosh, it's been nearly a year, hasn't it? I shouldn't have let you go over there by yourself."

She reaches forward and puts her hand on my knee, and I know instantly that our earlier argument is behind us. I cover her hand with my own and squeeze it gratefully.

"It's almost a year," I say, repeating the realisation as much to myself as to her. "And now there's another man there, fighting for his life after a car crash. It's almost a year since you got his heart. And I just stood there, and watched…"

"Gus die and me live?" Olivia finishes. Her face is full of unspoken guilt, and I bring her hand up to my lips to bestow a feathery kiss on each of her knuckles.

"All I really wanted to do was just come back here," I confess, pressing her palm against my cheek. "I wanted to come back here and be with you."

With a short, understanding nod, she moves off the chair and bends to her knees in front of me, sliding her arms around my waist.

"I'm sorry I ran off like that," I whisper.

"I'm sorry I pushed you away like that."

We breathe a shared sigh of relief and pull each other tighter. Eventually, Olivia leans back to meet my gaze, and as I look at her expressive face, I finally understand the old cliché about falling into a lover's eyes: because it captures exactly the heady, tumbling, off-balance feeling I'm experiencing right now.

Suddenly, the idea that Phillip – or anyone else, for that matter – might want to threaten Olivia's safety hits me like a sucker punch, and when I speak next my voice cracks with emotion.

"I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Gus died, but I'm not going anywhere," she reassures me, tucking my hair behind my ear, just like I did for her upstairs earlier this morning.

"This has nothing to do with Gus," I reply firmly. "I don't want anything to happen to you. Or Emma. I want to keep you both safe."

She smiles. "You're going to take on the entire Spaulding clan for me?"

"I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure nothing happens to you."

Her smile slowly fades, and she looks like she's about to tell me something, but then she shakes her head and grins again.

"I've gotta say, I'm liking this whole knight-in-shining-armour thing you've got going on."

I tilt my head and return her smile. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, it's kind of hot," she murmurs, pulling me into a kiss.

I slide off the coffee table to join her on the floor, and it doesn't take long before I realise that we're about three seconds away from spending the rest of the afternoon in my bedroom. With an enormous push of willpower, I force myself to slip out of her embrace.

"So," I say, standing up and grinning at Olivia's exaggerated groan of protest. "What should I make you for lunch? Because we have got to keep your strength up for what's ahead."

She gives me a look that tells me her mind is still buried deep in the gutter.

"Which is?" she asks suggestively.

"_Not_ that," I counter, pointing a warning finger at her. "Sooner or later you're going to have to see Phillip."

Her face instantly darkens at the mention of Phillip's name, so I try to shift the subject to something a little less touchy.

"There's some soup in the fridge that I was going to have for supper, but I was thinking that we could have it for lunch instead."

"Okay," she agrees. "What will we have for supper, then?"

"Well," I smile shyly, offering my hand to pull her to her feet. "I was thinking about taking you out."

Olivia's eyes light up. "Out for dinner? As in a dinner _date_?"

"Yeah." I try to keep my voice casual, but I can hear my nerves betraying me. "I thought maybe we could go to Towers for a nice meal. You know, since it's Valentine's Day and all."

Olivia smiles brightly, but her cheerfulness is quickly clouded as a new thought occurs to her.

"That sounds great," she begins, and my heart drops at her tentative tone. "You have no idea how much I would like that. But, Natalia, we can't just go out on the town together. Especially not now. We've already got Alan out for blood… and who knows what spies Phillip has prowling around Springfield, looking for any excuse to take my daughter away."

"I get all that," I nod. "But you and I go out for meals together all the time. Why does this have to be any different?"

"Because it _is_ different."

"I know that," I reply softly. "And you know that. But no one else knows. Not yet, anyway. So, why don't we take advantage of that and have one night out together? We can worry about how and when we're going to tell the town later."

Olivia tilts her head, thinking over my suggestion. After a moment, a smile slowly works its way across her face.

"Does that mean yes?"

"That means yes."

She leans down and kisses me, and then we move to the kitchen, where Olivia begins cleaning up the remnants of Emma's valentines while I put the soup on the stove. Once it's heated, Olivia puts a spoon in the pot to taste it.

"Let's see…mmmm, smells good." She licks the spoon and immediately sputters. "A lot of salt in this! What are you trying to do, kill me?"

"No, I need your rent money." She grins at me but makes no comeback. "Would it help you any if I went with you to see Phillip?"

She shakes her head and steps closer. "Phillip has a tendency to hurt people who cross him. I don't think you know what he's like."

"I know what the Spauldings are like," I point out. "And I know I would do anything to help Emma… and you."

"Well, if we're going to flag a bull, we need a plan," she announces, her voice full of false bravado.

"We tell the truth?" I suggest. "That Emma lives here, in a wonderful home, with two people who love her."

"Two people who are… _what_, exactly, to each other? Because Phillip's gonna want to know."

I can't quite read her expression, but it's not hard to guess why she's worried. We've just leapt into something with each other, and neither of us is entirely certain where it's going. It's new and different, and terrifying. And, at some point we're going to have to talk about all of it. But not today.

"You worry too much." I take a step closer and lay my hands lightly on top of hers. "And my offer still stands. If you want me with you, just ask."

She looks at me silently, and then she lifts her arms, which is all the invitation I need to envelop her in a tight hug. A few seconds later, she dips her head so that her mouth is at my ear.

"I want you with me," she whispers.

I press her closer. "Always."

tbc


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

I stand in front of my closet, trying desperately to put an outfit together. Suddenly, nothing I own seems right for the occasion.

_How exactly should you dress for a secret date on Valentine's Day with your best friend?_

Instinctively, I reach for my black strapless dress, one of my favourite seduction outfits.

_Definitely too racy._

Back in the closet it goes.

Next, I pull out one of my power suits, the navy one with pinstripes.

_Too formal: this isn't a business meeting._

Finally, I settle on comfortable dark jeans and a white collared shirt with a charcoal blazer. It seems like something I would wear normally if I was going out for a casual, friendly dinner with Natalia. In fact, I think I _have_ worn this outfit with her quite a few times before.

_Oh god, maybe she's tired of seeing me in this. Am I becoming predictable?_

I check the clock beside my bed and groan. Predictable or not, this outfit is going to have to do.

I've spent the last forty-five minutes searching through my wardrobe, and now I barely have time to get dressed. I toss my clothes on and give my hair one last tousle before rushing downstairs. I feel nervous, but also more than a little giddy about the prospect of a date with Natalia, even if it is a secret date.

I walk into the kitchen just as Natalia steps inside the door carrying a small bouquet. She smiles and hands me the flowers with a little flourish.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

"Did you go all the way to the florist's to get these?"

Her grin widens. "I'll never tell."

"Mmmm, I like mysterious women."

I lean down to capture her lips in a fleeting kiss. When I pull away, I smile at her still-closed eyes and the contented half-grin lingering on her mouth.

"I haven't been given flowers since I was in the hospital," I confess. "God, does that make me sound pathetic?"

"No," she laughs. "I haven't been given flowers since my wedding, so what does that say about me?"

I see her eyes darken at the memory, but she quickly masks it with another smile.

"Well, let's end that streak right now."

I pull out the most beautiful flower in the bouquet – a bright orange tiger lily – and hand it to her. She brings the flower to her nose and breathes deeply, her eyes shining happily at me over the top of it.

"Thank you," she says softly.

Her glance lingers on my lips, and that's all the invitation I need – I toss the flowers on the table and pull her into a kiss. The force of my movement knocks her slightly off-balance, and I take advantage by pushing her back against the nearest available barrier, which happens to be the fridge.

"Wait," Natalia mumbles against my lips. Ignoring her, I turn my attention to her neck.

"Olivia, _stop_," she insists, pushing me back so that I'm forced to meet her stern gaze. "We have reservations," she points out breathlessly. "I practically had to sell my soul to the hostess at Towers to get their last table for two."

Her words are barely registering in my mind. All I can think about right now is getting her upstairs.

"Reservations can wait," I tell her, pulling her toward me again.

"That's kind of the whole point of reservations." She slips out of my arms with a laugh. "They don't wait – not on Valentine's Day, at least."

"Okay, okay," I sigh. "So, who's driving?"

Instead of answering, she pulls me wordlessly toward the door. I look through the glass and see a sleek black town car parked in the driveway with the engine running. I gape at her, utterly charmed.

"When did you find time to order a car?"

"This afternoon. While you were plotting ways to kill Phillip, I was plotting our date."

I grin slyly. "What makes you think I wasn't plotting our date, too?"

Right on cue, I see another car pull into the driveway. Natalia peers at it curiously, and she beams at me when she sees Jane step out of the vehicle.

"Jane's staying with Emma tonight?"

"No, I don't feel safe leaving Emma here, even with a sitter," I explain. "Phillip won't be behind bars forever, and I'm still not sure where Alan fits into all of this. So, I asked Jane to come take Emma out to the new _Ice Age_ movie. That way, she'll be right in town where we can reach her if she needs us. Jane will bring her back here once we're home from dinner."

Just then, Emma runs into the kitchen to tell us all about how the kids at school said _Ice Age 3_ was a million – a billion, in fact – times better than the first two films. In a few minutes, we get her organised and out the door with Jane. Then Natalia and I grab our coats and jump into the backseat of the waiting town car.

As soon as the driver pulls out of the driveway, I take Natalia's hand and lean toward her.

"I still can't believe you did this."

"I'm full of surprises," she smiles.

"Yes, you are."

When we reach Towers, Natalia holds the door open and motions for me to enter ahead of her. It's dark inside the restaurant, and it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the soft light. But, once they do, I'm immediately startled by the scene before me: Towers has been completely transformed for Valentine's Day. The whole place is almost entirely lit by candles, along with a few strategically placed lights. There are red and pink heart-shaped balloons and ribbons hanging from every available spot on the ceiling, and the bar is covered in a variety of love-themed decorations and red roses.

Looking around, I am instantly reminded of every junior high school dance I ever attended.

"Oh god," Natalia murmurs beside me. We glance at each other nervously and she grimaces. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

"Why not?" I retort. "Like you said, we're just friends having a nice meal together. We do this all the time."

Natalia nods, but her eyes are still locked on the unspeakable tackiness surrounding us.

"Yeah, but… look at this place. It's like…"

"Cupid exploded in here?" I finish, and I'm pleased when my comment draws a laugh from her.

"I didn't expect it to be quite so… over the top." She meets my gaze again. "You know that anyone who sees us here will assume that we're on a date, right?"

"Does that bother you?"

"No," she says with a firm shake of her head. "I told you last night: I don't want to spend my life being afraid of what other people think. But you said you were worried about Alan trying to find ammunition to prove that we're together." She gestures at the restaurant. "There's a whole lot of ammunition here."

I scan the place quickly. "Well, I don't see Alan anywhere. In fact, I don't see anyone we know, so I think we're safe. Besides, this place is so dark that I doubt someone could find us even if they tried."

"That's true," she laughs. "So… we're good?"

I grin. "We're good."

We meet the hostess, who guides us through the restaurant toward a small table in a quiet corner near the back. But just as we pass the bar, a familiar voice calls out to me.

"Well, if it isn't Olivia Spencer."

With all the drama of a cartoon villain, Doris Wolfe slowly spins around on her bar stool to face us. A half-empty martini glass sits on the bar in front of her.

"And Natalia Rivera… hello." She gives me a shrewd smile, her eyebrows lifting knowingly. "I hope I'm not _interrupting_ anything."

"No, we're just having dinner," I reply coldly. "What are you doing here, Mayor Wolfe? I assumed you'd be busy in your office, thinking up more ways to destroy children's lives for your own political gain." I feel Natalia grip my arm warningly.

"Actually," Doris laughs, "I decided to stop by Towers for a quick victory drink. I just got my poll numbers back, and it seems that the people of Springfield have responded _very_ favourably to my speech yesterday."

"Really," I deadpan, working hard to keep my emotions under control. Natalia's fingers are almost painfully squeezing into my arm.

"Yes," she smirks. "Look, Olivia, let's bury the hatchet, shall we? I mean, whatever the two of you think about what I said on television, it's pretty obvious that I was right about you." She leans a little closer and lowers her voice conspiratorially. "You two _are_ on a date, right?"

"Oh, why don't you just shut up, Doris," Natalia snaps, surprising both of us with her vehemence. "You have no idea what you're talking about, and you have _no_ right to sit there making judgments about us."

Doris stares at her for a moment, her face full of surprised respect. "Maybe not," she finally admits. Then, she meets my glare with a sardonic grin. "Now I see what you were talking about in my office yesterday, Olivia. She's a real spitfire."

"Let's go," Natalia insists, pulling on my hand. "Don't let her waste any more of our time."

"Oh yes, _please_ don't let me waste your time," she calls out after us, unwilling to let Natalia have the last word. "You two have a pleasant evening."

I follow Natalia up the stairs to our table where a waiter is laying out our menus. I can practically see the rage sparking around Natalia's head, but she remains quiet until we're alone.

"That woman is infuriating," she fumes as we settle into our seats.

"She sure is," I chuckle. "You know, I thought _I'd_ be the one going for her jugular, but you beat me to it."

"Where does she get off, pretending that she's the moral compass for the whole town?" she continues. "All those things she said on television… she acted like us being together would _corrupt_ Emma in some way. Like it means we're bad parents."

"A lot of people probably think that," I point out. "After all, Emma's already had to deal with Derek's parents cancelling their play date, and you saw how Becky and Owen's mothers were talking about us yesterday. Unfortunately, they're not the only narrow-minded bigots in the world. Not that it excuses anything, but I think Doris is just doing whatever she can to get their votes."

"But it makes no sense," Natalia insists. "I mean, we're good parents. No, we're _great_ parents. And Emma is so happy living at the farmhouse with both of us. So what if we're a couple? What's so wrong with that?"

I smile as she unconsciously repeats the argument I made to her yesterday. "There's nothing wrong with it. But some people will try to use it against us."

"Like Alan."

"Like Alan," I confirm. "Look, I doubt that Alan has any real, honest objections to us being together. It's not about that for him. It's all about finding something that he can latch onto to prove that I'm an unfit mother. I know him: he'll try to twist this into something it isn't. And, now, with Phillip back in town…," I sigh heavily. "I just don't know what they've got up their sleeves."

"I hate not knowing what they want from us," Natalia says, slumping back in her chair. She scans the restaurant again and frowns. "This was a dumb idea. We should have just stayed home."

"Hey, no way," I object. "I'm so happy to be here with you, Natalia. Besides, after everything that happened today, I think we both deserve a nice meal, don't you?"

"But now Doris knows…"

"Who cares? She outed us to the town before we were even together. Let her assume whatever she wants."

Natalia nods, but she still looks anxious. "So, what was Doris saying about what you told her yesterday? Did you go see her after her press conference?"

My face reddens and I glance down at my menu.

"Um, yeah…" I say, trying to be nonchalant. "Hey, did you see these specials? The salmon sounds great, don't you think?"

"Olivia," she presses. "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing," I reply, but my unnaturally high-pitched voice immediately gives me away. I sigh and drop the menu onto the table. "It's just… I was so mad about her press conference, about how upset it made you. I _had_ to confront her about it. So, I went to her office and I told her that she had no right to say those things – to insinuate that we're bad parents."

"She said she understood what you'd told her… was that about me?"

I nod. "I told her about our history, about how you gave me Gus's heart even after all the awful things I'd done to you. I told her what a wonderful person you are: warm, decent, kind, beautiful…" I trail off and laugh softly. "I guess I confessed my feelings about you to the mayor of Springfield before I ever said anything to you."

Natalia gives me a thoughtful smile, clearly touched.

"I can't believe you said all those things to her. That you stood up for me – for us – like that."

"It was nothing," I reply, waving off her compliment.

"It _wasn't_ nothing," she insists. Her gaze turns inward for a moment, and I can tell she's working something out in her mind. "Olivia, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." I sit up straighter, suddenly a little anxious.

"If I hadn't broken up with Frank last night… what would you have done?"

"Honestly?"

She nods, and I can see that she's equal parts nervous and curious about my answer.

"I was going to move out of the farmhouse."

She gasps quietly and covers her mouth with her hand. "You were?"

"Yes," I admit. "After our fight yesterday, I knew I couldn't keep living there, pretending that I only wanted friendship from you. So I convinced myself that moving out was the best option for both of us. It nearly killed me to even think about it, Natalia."

I blink back sudden tears, and she reaches for my hand.

"You know," I continue, "I was thinking about it this afternoon, and I honestly believe that if you hadn't told me how you felt about me last night, I would have just sat back and watched you be with Frank. It would have been torture, but I would've done everything I could to avoid getting in the way of that relationship – including moving out of the farmhouse. Hell, I probably would've agreed to be the maid of honour at your wedding."

I mean it as a joke, but suddenly the thought that my words could easily have become reality hits me like a punch in the stomach. We exchange faint smiles across the table, both of us grateful that we never had to face that awful scenario.

"I don't think I ever would have had the courage to do what you did last night," I add, squeezing her hand in mine.

"Well, I had a little help from a big ol' glass of wine before I talked to you," she confesses. Her playful laughter instantly lightens the mood between us.

"Oh, really?"

"I was pretty nervous."

"Well, however you did it, I'm just glad you worked up the courage."

"Me too," she replies softly. Then she reaches for the drinks menu. "Hey, speaking of wine, let's order some."

* * *

A little while later, we've finished our meals and the waiter returns to hand us the bill. I reach instinctively for it, but Natalia grabs my hand and shakes her head.

"I'm paying." Sensing my objection, she grips my hand tighter. "Olivia, this is my treat, okay? Let me pay for a change."

I consider insisting, but the no-nonsense look she's giving me tells me I won't win this argument.

"Only if you let me pay you back when we get home," I say, lowering my voice suggestively. My grin widens at her reddening face. Wordlessly, she nods her agreement and grabs the bill from me.

"Alright," I concede. "I just have to run to the washroom before we go."

Natalia checks her watch. "Our car should be here to pick us up in a few minutes, so I'll just meet you at the main entrance."

As I turn to weave my way through the crowded restaurant toward the restrooms, I'm conscious of the goofy grin stretching across my face. I feel like I'm on a permanent high from this evening with Natalia. It's hard to believe that it was only yesterday that we were arguing right here in this very restaurant. Now, not only are we on a date, but we're also about to go home together.

My mind is still trying to process all the changes that the last twenty-four hours have brought into my life when I push open the door to the restroom. I haven't taken more than two steps inside before I stop in my tracks, surprised to discover two women kissing passionately against the wall directly in front of me.

I'm about to turn back around to give them some privacy when I notice something peculiar about the woman whose back is facing me: she's wearing a jacket with a distinctive red, white, and black splashy pattern on it.

I'd recognise that hideous outfit anywhere.

Doris Wolfe, the mayor of Springfield, is kissing another woman.

"Holy shit."

As soon she hears my voice, Doris pulls away from the other woman – who I can see is at least ten years younger and wearing a Towers uniform – and spins around. When she recognises me, all the colour drains from her face and she puts out a hand to steady herself against the counter.

"Dor?" the other woman asks tentatively, shooting me an anxious look.

"It's okay, Jamanda," Doris says softly. "But you should probably go."

Wordlessly, Jamanda squeezes Doris's arm before pushing past me. As soon as the door closes, Doris starts talking.

"Okay, this is _not_ what it looks like."

I laugh harshly. "Right, _Dor_, so you weren't just making out with… um, I think her name was _Jamanda_?"

"No," Doris insists weakly. She casts a furtive glance sideways and clears her throat. "We were just talking. She's, uh, one of my constituents. I am mayor to all the people."

"I can't believe this."

"What?" she asks, clearly deciding to give up the act. "Just because I was married to Alan Spaulding? Please! You were, too."

"Yeah, well, that's not what I'm talking about," I reply. "I'm talking about that speech you made, that awful little speech about my daughter's paper: My Two Mommies? You made it sound like it was bad, like it was wrong. How could you do that?"

Doris looks down guiltily before meeting my challenge head-on. "For the same reason that you denied you were in a gay relationship when you stormed into my office."

Briefly I consider explaining myself, but then I realise I have no idea what I'd say. Instead I just sigh, quietly conceding the point.

"Look, people don't like to be different, okay?" she continues. "Trust me. I come from a small town. Nobody wants to be different. People are afraid of different. Do you really think I would have been elected mayor if people thought I was a lesbian? Absolutely not. My own daughter doesn't even know." She swallows hard and changes the subject. "So, what's it going to take for you to keep this a secret? What do you want, a tax break for the Beacon?"

I stare at her in disbelief, my anger instantly evaporating. All I feel for her now is pity.

"I can't believe how you lead your life. Like it's one big secret, like there's something to be ashamed of."

"And yet," she counters defensively, "your daughter wrote a paper called 'My Two Mommies,' and you swore up and down that you were not a lesbian. And, here you are, at Towers, on Valentine's Day, on a date with Natalia. Are you a lesbian, Olivia?"

Her question renders me speechless. _Is that what I am?_

"That's what I thought," she smirks when I don't answer right away. "So tell me, what's so _honest_ about the way you live your life?"

With that parting shot, she pushes by me and storms out the door. As soon as she disappears, I walk to the mirror and lean against the counter, Doris's words still echoing through my head.

Suddenly I realise just what a coward I'm being. All the questions that I've struggled with rage through my mind at once: Why can't I take my own advice and just be honest about my relationship with Natalia? Why does Phillip's return have to mean that we can't be open about what's happening between us? I've never let other people dictate my life before, so why start now?

After a minute, I look at my reflection determinedly, making a decision. Then, I turn and walk to the small area just inside the front entrance to Towers, where Natalia is waiting for me. She hands me my purse and jacket with a smile.

"The car should be here any minute," she says.

Instead of responding, I reach for her and cup her face gently between my hands.

"Olivia?" she asks, clearly surprised by my sudden public gesture. "What are you…?"

I swallow her question with my kiss, pouring every unspoken word, every hidden emotion between us into it. As soon as her initial shock disappears, I feel her lips melt against mine, and she reaches for my waist to pull me close. At that moment, I don't care who sees us: I want the whole world to know that we belong together – that I'm hers, and she's mine.

But then a loud, unwelcome voice shatters the moment between us.

"Well, well, well…"

I spin away from Natalia to see Alan Spaulding standing a few feet away, glaring at us. He takes a step closer and smiles menacingly at me before he speaks again.

"What have we here?"

tbc


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

"Well, well, well... what have we here?"

Alan's tone is condescending and cruel. He's like a cobra ready to strike, and I know I have to tread carefully. I can already feel Natalia tensing at my side.

"Hello, Alan."

"Olivia," he replies, drawing out every syllable in my name. "And Natalia," he adds, his gaze shifting to her. "You're both looking…" he pauses as if searching for the right word, "… well."

"And you're looking smug as ever."

"Well, I admit that it's hard _not_ to look smug when I've just stumbled upon the way to finally bring Emma back into the fold of the Spaulding family, where she belongs."

"Oh?" I take a step closer to him. "Enlighten me."

"I'd be happy to," he smiles coldly. "Your rather public display of affection would appear to suggest that you and Natalia are indeed lovers… _lesbian_ lovers, isn't that right?"

I hear Natalia suck in a quick breath beside me, and I sigh, realising there's no point in arguing. Besides, I'm not about to let Alan – of all people – demean what Natalia and I have together.

"Yes, we are," I reply, straightening my back defiantly. "And what do you have to say about it?"

He shrugs innocently, and I have to clench my fists at my sides to stop myself from ripping his head right off his shoulders.

"Only that it would seem that Doris was correct: you two are providing my granddaughter with a morally questionable living environment."

"_Morally questionable_?" Natalia erupts, pushing past me to confront Alan herself. "What _exactly_ do you mean by that?"

He's obviously startled by her open hostility, but he quickly hides his surprise behind his usual air of superiority.

"My dear Natalia, of course I don't want to judge your life choices. Or yours, Olivia," he adds magnanimously, causing me to snort in disbelief. "But surely I can't be expected to stand by and watch as my granddaughter is… _corrupted_ in this way?"

"_Corrupted_?" I hiss, leaning close to him. "Listen, Alan, I know what you're trying to pull here. You're not fooling anyone, least of all me. You want to try and make me look like an unfit mother. Well, it isn't going to work. Yes, Natalia and I are together. But that certainly doesn't mean we're unfit to raise Emma. In fact, I know Emma would be very eager to tell you just how happy she is at the farmhouse with us."

"Well, children will say anything, won't they?" he says snidely. "That's why it's the courts that decide these matters in the end."

My voice dips as I take another step closer. "We're a family, Alan, and I'm not going to let you – or Phillip, for that matter – come between us."

"Are you _threatening_ me, Olivia?" Alan asks, feigning surprise.

I nod determinedly. "I will do whatever is necessary to keep you and Phillip away from my daughter."

Alan is about to say something else, but suddenly we're interrupted by the shrill ring of Natalia's cell phone.

"Sorry," she says absently, digging the phone out of her purse. When she glances at the caller ID, her face falls. "It's Frank."

Dread creeps into my stomach. "Coop?"

"Maybe it's good news," Natalia murmurs as she answers her phone. She's quiet for a moment, and I watch as the colour slowly drains from her face.

"Oh no. God, I'm so sorry, Frank," she says, turning away.

I glance at Alan, but he's deep in thought. Natalia hangs up and turns back to face us, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Is it…?" I trail off, unable to finish the thought.

Natalia nods once. "Coop died."

"Oh my god." I enfold Natalia in a tight embrace. "Poor Coop."

By the time we pull away from each other, Alan has already disappeared.

"He probably ran off to put together a case for why he's not responsible for Coop's accident," I sputter angrily.

"Well, at least his focus is off us."

"For now." I shake all thoughts of Alan from my head and turn my attention back to her. "Frank must be broken up."

"He sounded awful," she nods. "Actually, I was thinking that maybe I should go to the hospital to see if there's anything I can do."

"The hospital?"

As much as I try to stop it, I can feel a flash of jealousy working its way through me like a poison, and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from saying something I know I'll regret. But apparently Natalia senses my feelings because she grasps my hand firmly.

"Just for a little while," she explains. "I can't leave the Coopers to deal with this on their own. They've been so good to me, Olivia. I want to help them if I can."

I force myself to smile understandingly. "I'm sure they'd appreciate that. Hey, maybe I'll come with you…?"

"You don't want to leave Emma alone with Jane at the farmhouse tonight," she reminds me. "In fact, why don't you take the town car and pick up Emma at the theatre on your way home? I'll get a cab to take me to the hospital."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she nods, already heading toward the door. "There's a taxi stand right outside. Don't worry, Olivia. I'll call you later, okay?"

I reach out and squeeze her hand, suddenly needing some form of physical connection before she leaves. She flashes me a grateful smile.

"Keep me updated."

"I will," she promises. Then she disappears out the door.

* * *

Four hours later, I'm lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, my mind heavy with thoughts of the Coopers, Alan and Phillip, and Natalia. True to her word, Natalia called me once from the hospital, but our conversation was cut short when a doctor came in to talk to the family about Coop. I haven't heard anything from her since then.

I know it's kind of Natalia to support the Coopers, but I still feel an irrational, gnawing pang of jealousy at the thought that she'd rather be with them than me. As certain as I am that she doesn't have feelings for Frank, I'm just as sure that he still harbours his schoolboy infatuation with her, and I worry that her presence at the hospital will only encourage him.

Of course, I know there's one easy way to clear things up, to make it obvious to Frank that he and Natalia will never be together: we could just tell him – and everyone else in town – about our relationship. We could stop living in fear and secrecy and be honest about what's happening between us.

But as soon as my mind begins turning over that thought, I can't help but remember Alan's triumphant smile when he saw Natalia and me kissing at Towers. I don't know exactly what he has planned, but I'm certain it isn't good. The news of Coop's death may have shifted his focus away from us for now, but it won't take long for him to start scheming to find a way to use our relationship against us. And, now that Phillip is back in town, I feel more certain than ever that the two of them will join forces to try to take Emma away from me.

Heaving a long, frustrated sigh, I glance at the clock and see that it's nearly one o'clock. For what feels like the hundredth time that night, I wonder where Natalia is and why she hasn't made it home yet.

But then, almost on cue, I hear a tentative knock at my bedroom door, and I turn to see Natalia peering uncertainly at me.

"Hey."

"Hey," she echoes. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," I reply, pushing down the sheets beside me in a silent invitation.

She enters quickly, shutting the door behind her. Before she gets under the covers, I see that she's wearing nothing but a long black t-shirt that hugs her curves, and I feel an immediate responding flutter travel deep through my abdomen.

"Why are you here?" she asks once she's curled up beside me.

"This is my bed," I reply with an hesitant laugh.

"I thought you'd be in _my_ bed," she chastises gently. "I wanted you to be there."

Then, without another word, she reaches for me. I feel her hand slip under the waist of my silk pajamas and between my thighs, and I gasp in surprise when she starts stroking her fingers against me.

"Natalia…" I whisper, arching my back to draw her nearer. I'm trying to grasp onto a rational thought, but the way she's touching me is making it impossible to think clearly.

"What?" she asks innocently. In one smooth movement, she gets on top of me, straddling my hips. Her hand never stops its rhythmic motion.

"Shouldn't we… uh, talk, or something?" My words are already coming out in breathless gasps.

Natalia shakes her head and bends closer, her hair falling down to frame her face.

"I don't want to talk right now," she says, her tone both determined and sad.

I want to ask her if she's okay, but then as if to emphasise her desire to avoid conversation, she slips her fingers inside of me, and I instantly forget how to speak. There is nothing soft or gentle about the way she's touching me – her strokes are hard and fast, and she watches as I react to everything she's doing. With her free hand, she takes one of mine and slides it under her t-shirt and between her legs. It's only then that I realise she isn't wearing any underwear. She begins rubbing my hand against her in time with her own thrusts inside me, and I nearly come undone when I feel the evidence of her arousal against my fingertips.

The only sound for the next few minutes is our laboured breathing as we move together at an increasingly frantic, almost desperate, pace. Then, without warning, Natalia throws her head back and releases a strangled cry, and the feeling of her muscles clenching around my fingers and her hips bucking against me is more than enough to send me tumbling over the edge right along with her.

She collapses on top of me, moaning softly as our movements gradually slow. Glancing at the clock, I'm startled to discover that she's been in my bed for all of ten minutes.

"God, Natalia," I breathe, tangling my fingers in her hair. "You're amazing."

She stays silent and doesn't raise her head from where she's buried it against my neck. Suddenly I feel her chest heaving against me with quick, hitching gasps.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Gently, I lift her head to meet my gaze. Tears stream down her cheeks, and I wipe them away with my thumbs.

"I just…" she whispers brokenly. "I'm sorry, it's hard to explain."

"That's okay," I soothe. "Just talk to me."

She takes a deep, shaky breath before she dips her head onto my shoulder again. Her slight frame curls around me and I pull her close. After a minute, she starts talking, her voice low and tentative, sounding almost ghostly in the stillness of the room.

"It was so hard to see Coop lying there like that, you know?"

"Because of Gus," I guess.

"Not just that," she replies. "It's also the idea of losing a child. Buzz is completely torn apart. I honestly can't imagine the horror of what he's going through. I mean, it's bad enough that Rafe is in jail, but the thought of him dying…" I shudder sympathetically, and she tightens her grip on my waist.

"The thing is," she continues softly. "It made me think about Phillip and Alan, and what if they really do try to take Emma from us. Olivia, we can't let that happen. No matter what, we have to make sure we keep Emma safe." She lifts her head to look at me and her eyes are full of tears again. "Even if it means that we can't be together."

"What?" Suddenly I'm afraid of where this conversation is heading.

"Olivia, I told you that I wouldn't let anything happen to your little girl, and I meant it. I won't let Alan and Phillip take her away from you just because of me." She shakes her head resolutely. "If our relationship gives them any ammunition to start a custody battle, then…"

She trails off weakly as all her resolve crumbles. More tears spill down her cheeks and she drops her head to my shoulder.

"Hey, hey, Natalia," I murmur, rubbing her back. "Don't talk like that, okay? Alan and Phillip aren't coming anywhere near my daughter; I can guarantee you that. But I can't do this without you. I _need_ you."

She releases a grateful sob and tilts her head to place a soft kiss against the side of my mouth.

"I need you, too," she admits. "But, I'm afraid, Olivia. I'm so afraid of losing you and Emma. I don't know what I'd do if…" She shivers and pulls me snugly against her as if she fears I really might disappear.

"I'm not going anywhere," I reassure her. "And neither is Emma. Nothing is going to happen to our family."

"How do you know that?" she whispers. "How do you know nothing will happen?"

I smile grimly and pull her closer. "Because I won't let it."

tbc


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven  
**

When I awake the next morning, I automatically stretch my hand toward Olivia's side of the bed, only to find that I'm touching a cold, hard mattress.

Trying to ignore the anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach, I glance at the alarm clock on Olivia's nightstand and am surprised to see that it's already seven thirty. I'm usually awake at dawn, but the exhaustion from everything that happened yesterday must have caught up to me.

I get out of bed and head downstairs, listening for any sign that Olivia is still in the house. I hear nothing. Reaching the kitchen, I see a note on the table written in Olivia's sloping style:

_N,_

_Had to head to work early today, but didn't want to wake you. The coffee's brewed. See you at the office._

_O._

_PS. Could you drop off Emma at school on your way to work? I don't like the idea of her taking the bus until we know what's happening with A&P. Thanks._

There is nothing overly worrying about Olivia's note, but there is nothing particularly heart-warming about it, either. It seems hasty to me, which is odd given our conversation – and everything else that happened between us – last night.

I give my head a rough shake to force myself to stop over-analysing the note and focus on the tasks for this morning. Everything else can wait until I see Olivia at work.

Almost as soon as I start getting Emma's breakfast ready, I hear her thundering down the stairs, and I smile to myself. It never fails to amaze me how much noise such a little person can make. The house always echoes with her sounds: stomping around upstairs as she plays with her toys, laughing as she watches a movie, and chattering to Olivia and me in her happy, excited way. Together she and Olivia have filled the house with their presence, to the point where I can no longer imagine the place without them in it.

"Morning, munchkin," I greet Emma as she appears in the kitchen, still rubbing her eyes sleepily. "Feel like Cheerios today?"

"Yes, please."

She clambers onto a chair where I've set a bowl and a glass of orange juice out for her. While I pour her some cereal, she looks up at me curiously.

"Natalia, can I ask you something?"

"Of course," I say, reaching for some milk.

"Did you and Mommy have a sleepover last night?"

"_What_?" My hand jerks in surprise, and milk splashes onto the floor.

"Did you have a sleepover?" Emma repeats innocently, watching me as I turn to grab some nearby paper towels.

"Uh…"

I put off answering her while I mop up the mess on the floor. My heart is pounding quickly and I know my face is red with embarrassment. Emma's question is the last thing I expected to be dealing with this early in the morning. Olivia and I haven't had a chance to discuss how or when we're going to tell Emma about us, but apparently she's already begun to put two and two together.

Eventually I force myself to meet the little girl's questioning gaze.

"What makes you ask that, Em?" My voice sounds way too loud and chipper.

"Well, when I got up to use the bathroom last night, your bedroom door was open and I saw you weren't in your room. So, I thought you must have been in Mommy's room, having a sleepover. Is that where you were?"

I look down and wipe the already-clean floor again as I try to decide how to answer her question. I don't want to lie to her, but I also don't think it's a good idea to explain everything without Olivia here as well. This is something that the three of us are going to have to sit down and talk about together. Finally, I decide to be as honest as possible, without revealing too much.

"Um, yeah, I was in your mommy's room last night, Em," I explain. "We were having a sleepover." The answer seems to satisfy her because she nods and starts eating her cereal. I swallow heavily and continue. "In fact, we might be having more sleepovers from now on. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," she answers happily. "Sleepovers are fun. Jodie and I like to tell ghost stories to each other before we go to sleep. Do you and Mommy do that?"

"Uh, not so much," I reply vaguely before leaping onto the opportunity to change the subject. "What kind of ghost stories do you and Jodie tell?"

Much to my relief, my question launches Emma into a litany of her favourite ghost stories, and soon our conversation has shifted far away from the topic of sleepovers.

* * *

An hour later, I arrive at the Beacon after dropping Emma off at school. I head directly toward Olivia's office, but before I make it more than a few steps through the lobby, I feel a hand grabbing my elbow and I turn to see Frank standing behind me.

"Frank, hi," I say, unable to hide my surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He's looking at me with a hopeful, earnest expression. "I was just driving by the Beacon, and I thought I should drop in to tell you that Coop's funeral is happening tomorrow."

"Oh, okay. Well… thanks for letting me know."

I gently remove my arm from his grasp. Ignoring my uneasiness, he takes a step closer and smiles down at me.

"I _really_ appreciated you coming by the hospital last night," he says softly. "It meant a lot to know that you care."

_Uh oh._

Already I can tell that my visit to the hospital has had one unintentional effect: it seems to have encouraged Frank's hopes about us. I know I'm walking a fine line with him: with everything that's happened to his family in recent days, I want to be supportive, but I also don't want to give him the wrong impression about us.

"I was glad to be able to help," I reply carefully. "For Buzz, and you, and all the Coopers. You're my friends."

"Well, we all appreciated it." He reaches for my hand. "You're too good to us, Natalia."

I smile tightly and slowly disentangle my hand from his. "I'm just sorry you're all going through this right now. It's not fair."

"Yeah," he nods sadly. We stand in uncomfortable silence until he finally glances at his watch. "Look, I should get going. I've got to take care of the arrangements for tomorrow."

Before he turns to leave, he bends down to wrap me in a tight hug. I return it awkwardly, and when he pulls away he plants a fleeting kiss on my cheek. I'm too surprised by the gesture to say anything.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he smiles gratefully.

As soon as he moves out of my eye line, I see a quick flash of a woman in a dark suit striding down the hall toward the offices: Olivia. I groan inwardly as I watch her walk away from me. Even though I can't see her face, I can tell that she's angry. Her shoulders are tensed and the sharp clacking of her heels striking the floor carries all the way across the lobby.

Taking a deep breath, I follow her into her office. By the time I reach her door, she's already sitting behind her desk. Her face is flushed, but I think she's trying to mask the worst of her anger from me. I shut the door and stand before her desk.

"Hi, Oliv—."

"How's Frank?" she cuts me off, her voice sounding edgy.

"Uh, he seems okay. He just came by to tell me that Coop's funeral is tomorrow."

"Well, that was good of him," Olivia says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "He's a _good_ man, you know."

"Olivia…"

"What?" she challenges, arching an eyebrow.

I sigh heavily. "You saw Frank and me in the lobby, didn't you?"

She doesn't answer right away, and I watch as all kinds of emotions struggle for control on her expressive face. Finally, she bites her lip and nods quickly.

"Nothing was going on," I explain. "You must know that, right? He was just here to tell me about the funeral."

She laughs harshly. "Oh, I think he was here for more than that."

"What?"

"Come on, Natalia," Olivia chides. "Are you really going to pretend that you don't see what's happening? Frank still has feelings for you, and you're still leading him on."

"Leading him on?" I repeat incredulously. Even though she's just giving voice to my own concerns about Frank's feelings, I'm hurt by her suggestion that I'm at fault. "I broke up with him the other night, and—"

"Yeah, well, Frank is persistent," Olivia interrupts. "I saw the way he was looking at you. I don't think he really gets it – and I can't really blame him, since you're always more than happy for him to lean on you whenever he wants."

Her face instantly reddens, and I can see that she regrets the words as soon as they come out of her mouth. But instead of apologising, she straightens her back and gives me a defiant look. I lean forward against her desk, meeting her accusatory gaze head on.

"And, what? You think I want to start dating Frank again? With everything that's happened between you and me over the last couple of days, why would that thought even come into your head?"

My words seem to deflate some of her anger, and she sinks back into her chair a little bit.

"I don't think you want to be with Frank," she says quietly, shaking her head. "But I _do_ think that the more time you spend coddling him, the more he's going to wonder whether you want to start things up again."

"What would you have me do, Olivia?" I ask. "Ignore the fact that he just lost his brother? That his whole family is suffering through a horrible tragedy?"

"No, of course not," she mutters. "But I don't understand why _you_ have to be the one he always turns to. Frank does have other friends, you know."

"I know that, but…" I trail off and take a deep breath. "Look, when Nicky died, the Coopers were there for me. I don't know what I would have done without them. And now they need someone, and I can't just ignore that. I _have_ to help."

Olivia stares at me for a long moment before slumping in defeat.

"Alright," she says wearily. "Let's just drop it, okay? Besides, we have other things to worry about right now."

She reaches for something on her desk and hands me a piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"I found it on my desk when I arrived this morning. It's from Alan."

"From Alan?" I echo as I unfold the paper and begin reading.

_Olivia,_

_Unfortunately, Coop's untimely demise meant that we didn't have a chance to complete our conversation last evening. However, I want to assure you that we will finish it soon – all of it. We have a great deal to talk about with regard to my granddaughter._

_I'll be in touch._

_Alan_

"What the hell?" I sputter once I've finished the letter.

"Oh, you know Alan," Olivia sighs. "Subtlety is not his strong suit. That's just a warning shot before he really comes for Emma."

I crush the letter in my hands and toss it onto the desk.

"He's an asshole," I announce furiously.

Surprise at my unexpected curse flashes briefly across Olivia's face, but it draws a faint smile from her, which I'm grateful to see.

"I can't argue with that," she smirks.

"What are you going to do?"

"What _can_ I do?" She pounds her fist helplessly onto her desk. "Short of murdering Alan – which I haven't completely ruled out yet – all I can do is wait until he makes a move. But in the meantime, I'm going to do everything humanly possible to make sure that Phillip stays in jail. I can handle Alan alone, but if the two of them team up…" She shakes her head ominously.

"Look, I know how you feel about this, but maybe we should talk to Frank."

"Frank?" she says angrily. "How's _he_ going to help?"

"Maybe he could get the police to keep an eye out for Emma," I explain, hoping that Olivia's sense of reason will outweigh her jealousy. "You know, he could make sure Alan doesn't get anywhere near her."

Her face darkens and she gives me a reproachful glare. "What, you think I'm not capable of protecting my own daughter?"

I throw my hands up in exasperation. "That's not what I'm saying! It's just that it wouldn't hurt to have a little help, and I'm sure Frank would be willing to lend a hand."

Olivia laughs harshly. "Oh, I'm sure that's true."

I feel stung by her insinuation. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She closes her eyes and rubs the bridge of her nose. "Nothing, it's just… nothing."

But I'm not about to let her off the hook that easily. "Olivia, what's going on with you?" I press. "Last night you said you wanted me with you. You said that you needed me."

"I _do_ need you," she says, her face pained.

"Then why are you being like this?" I ask, my voice softening slightly. "Why are you trying to push me away?"

"I don't know," she admits. She leans back and rakes a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry, Natalia. I don't know what's wrong with me. It's just that you spent all that time at the hospital last night, and then when I saw you hugging Frank it made me think…" she trails off, unable to finish her thought. "I just have a hard time trusting anyone, you know? It always seems to get me into trouble."

"I know," I reply, moving around her desk to stand beside her chair. I slide my hand around her shoulders, and I'm relieved when she rests her head against my stomach.

"You have nothing to worry about," I continue softly. "I'm _yours_, Olivia."

"Mine?" she asks, turning her face toward my stomach. I feel a flutter tumble through my abdomen as she presses a light kiss against me.

"Yours," I confirm.

With two fingers, I tip her chin up and brush my lips softly against hers. When I pull away, she looks up at me with a completely unguarded expression, and in that moment I see clearly all the wounds and insecurities that she tries so hard to hide from the world.

I don't know all the details about Olivia's past, but I do know she's been hurt countless times before – and the look on her face reveals the emotional scars of every betrayal she's ever suffered. Even though I can't take away every single one of those bad memories for her, I'm suddenly filled with a determination to give her all the things she deserves.

"You can trust me, Olivia," I murmur, looking at her intently. "I would _never_ do anything to hurt you."

My heart breaks a little when I see her eyes brighten with tears. For all her bluster, I know that Olivia is a deeply fragile woman who doesn't give her heart away easily. But at this moment I feel certain that she's finally starting to give it to me.

Embarrassed by her naked display of emotion, Olivia looks away and wipes her face quickly.

"Sorry," she laughs softly. "I'm such a sap."

"Don't apologise."

I cup her face with my hands and wipe away her lingering tears with my thumbs, just like she did for me last night. Then, I bend closer and kiss her gently. I smile when I hear her sigh of approval.

"Hey," I say lightly. "Emma asked me an interesting question at breakfast this morning. She wanted to know if you and I had a sleepover last night in your room."

"Oh my god," Olivia half-groans, half-laughs. "What did you say?"

"Well, I couldn't think of another reason for me to be in your bedroom all night, so I said yes. I hope that's okay."

"Yeah, that should satisfy her curiosity. For a little while at least." Her laughter fades quickly as a new thought occurs to her. "We're going to need to tell her about us soon, though. I don't think the 'sleepover' excuse is going to hold water forever."

"When do you want to talk to her?"

"Not until we figure out what Alan has up his sleeve," she says. "I don't want to give him more ammunition to use against us until I know what he's planning. If we told Emma about us now we'd have to ask her to keep it a secret, and I don't think that's a good idea. The last thing I want is for her to think this is something to be ashamed of."

I nod my agreement. "Okay, so until we know what's happening with Alan and Phillip, we'll keep this between us."

"I think that's for the best… for now, at least."

"Well, in that case, there's something else I should tell you," I say, clearing my throat nervously.

"What is it?"

"Um, I kind of told Emma that you and I will be having a lot more sleepovers from now on."

She tilts her head at me. "We will?"

"Yeah," I reply. "At least, I hope so." I run my hand through her hair and she pulls me closer. "I don't want to spend another night without you beside me, Olivia. I want you with me, in my bed, every night and every morning." I smile shyly. "Is that okay?"

For just an instant, I see a look of pure, unmixed happiness steal across Olivia's face. Then, she reaches up to slide her hand to the back of my neck and pull me down to her again.

Before our lips meet, she whispers, "that is definitely okay."

tbc


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

When I awake the next morning, there's no need to stretch my hand toward Olivia's side of the bed to find her – she's already all the way over on my side. The entire length of her naked body is pressed against my back, her arm draped lazily around my waist. I release a long sigh of contentment and slide my hand down her arm, basking in the feeling of her warm skin under my fingertips.

My action causes a low rumble of laughter to travel through her body, and she spreads her hand flat against my stomach to press me more firmly against her. I turn my head, but I can't quite see her because her face is buried against the back of my neck.

"You're awake?"

"Mmmm-hmmm," her gravelly voice affirms. She presses a single lingering kiss against my shoulder, causing a pleasant shiver to travel through me. Not for the first time, I'm amazed by how strongly my body reacts to even the smallest touch from Olivia. It's always been this way: even before I recognised what my feelings meant, my body always knew.

_I should have trusted it sooner_, I think as I settle back against her. _We've wasted so much time…_

"How long have you been up?" I ask. My hand continues to trace patterns up and down her arm, and I can't help but grin when I feel the goosebumps my light touch is drawing on her skin. There's more than a little satisfaction in knowing that I have the same effect on her as she has on me.

"Long enough to know that you were having a _very_ nice dream," she whispers suggestively.

My mind is instantly flooded with images from the dream I was having just before I woke up, most of which involved a naked Olivia and an enormous bowl of whipped cream.

"Oh god." I groan, covering my eyes. "Was I talking in my sleep?"

"A little," Olivia laughs. She tightens her grip on my hips to mould us more closely together. "All I know is that you kept saying that I taste _really_ good…"

"Well, you know I never lie."

Smiling, I reach up to tangle my fingers in her hair and draw her down to me. My neck is turned at an uncomfortable angle and my left arm is trapped awkwardly underneath me, but all of that is forgotten as soon as I feel her lips part against my own. After a little while, her hand glides down my stomach and between my thighs and I gasp when her fingers begin caressing me with an almost feathery touch. She moves so slowly it's agonising, and I arch my back to encourage her.

She laughs against my mouth. "And here I thought I was the impatient one in this relationship."

"I choose my moments to be impatient," I grin back at her.

I twist around to lie on my back, wrapping my arms around her shoulders to bring our lips together again. Eventually, she tears her mouth from mine and begins a languid journey down my neck, my breasts, and my stomach, leaving a trail of heavy kisses in her wake. When she reaches my hips, she pauses, and I draw in a long, shuddering breath of anticipation.

But, before she dips lower, she looks up at me with a wicked grin. "We should probably get breakfast ready soon, shouldn't we?"

I gasp and reflexively angle myself toward her. "Oh my god, Olivia, if you stop right now…"

Thankfully, she takes mercy on me, but not before flashing me another sultry smile.

"Well, if you insist…"

* * *

A couple hours later, Olivia and I drive to the church where Coop's funeral is to be held. After spending most of the morning trying to forget the emotional event we knew we had to face today, the trip to the church passes in silence, while we each try to steel ourselves for what is to come.

Even after Olivia cuts the engine, neither of us makes a move to get out of the vehicle. We sit quietly, staring out the windshield as a light dusting of snow begins to fall around us.

Finally, I'm the one who breaks the silence. "This is so sad."

"I know," Olivia nods. "Coop and I didn't exactly have the best relationship, but no one deserves this."

I close my eyes tightly. "He was so young."

"So was Gus," Olivia murmurs, reading the shifting thoughts on my face. She takes my hand, and I smile my thanks to her.

"I can't imagine what that was like for you," she continues quietly, her face full of sadness and grief. I squeeze her hand tightly.

"Yes you can," I say. "Because you lost Gus, too."

"Yes... but that loss meant I got to live."

I can hear a year's worth of guilt in Olivia's voice, and at that moment I want nothing more than to lighten the burden she's carried around with her ever since Nicky's death. Wordlessly, I shift to face her, and with my free hand I lightly trace the top of her scar, which is just barely visible above the material of her sweater. My index finger dips under the fabric and then I flatten my palm against her chest, feeling the strong, reassuring heartbeat under her skin. When I meet her gaze again, her eyes are brimming with tears.

"We've both lost so much," I say, my voice a whisper in stillness of the car. "But we've gained a lot, too. You know, in the last year I've had a lot of time to think about Gus's death and what it meant. And, as unfair as it all seemed at the time, I know now that God had a purpose."

"And what was that?"

In Olivia's voice there is a strange mixture of scepticism and hope. I know she doesn't share my religious convictions, but she seeks answers for these questions just as much as I do. We just have different ways of finding them.

"I think God decided it was Gus's time to go to heaven," I tell her with a sad smile. "And it was your time to live, Olivia."

"Surely God knows I didn't deserve it." She looks down and laughs humourlessly.

"Yes you did," I insist. "You _do_." With two fingers I tilt her chin up again, forcing her to meet my gaze. "We both do. I think Gus's death gave both of us a second chance at life."

"So, what does Coop's death mean, then?" Olivia challenges gently. "How does this fit into God's plan?"

"I don't know," I answer. "But that doesn't mean there isn't one. God always has a reason, even if it isn't clear to us right now."

Olivia looks at me thoughtfully for a moment before shaking her head.

"I wish I had your faith," she says. "I wish I believed there was some heavenly purpose to all of this. But I just can't see it."

"Well, if you can't believe in God, then believe in this." I lift her hand to press a light kiss against her palm. "Believe in us."

"I do." She glances at her watch and sighs. "But as much as I'd like to stay here with you, I think we should probably get inside before we miss the whole service."

As we walk toward the church, we both lapse into silence again. I know Olivia is as anxious about this funeral as I am. As much as I want to be here for the Coopers, the selfish part of me also dreads seeing them. My chest tightens when I think about what the entire family is going through, but I'm absolutely heartbroken for Buzz. The thought of having to go to your child's funeral is simply too much to bear.

Ever since I found out about Coop's death, I've been calling Rafe at the jail as often as possible, just to hear his voice, to know that he's okay. But, even though Rafe is stuck in a horrible place right now, at least it's temporary. In another couple of months he'll be free and able to start rebuilding his life again. Coop will never get that chance.

We're nearly at the entrance to the church when I grab Olivia's elbow to make her face me again.

"I don't know what to say to them… to Buzz," I admit.

"They're strong people," she says. "And we're gonna be there to help them."

"But, losing a child?" I continue, my mind stuck on the nightmarish thought. "Can you imagine? I mean, just think about it, Olivia—"

"No!" she interrupts, shutting her eyes tightly. "No. I'm _not_ going to lose Emma. I'll never lose her."

"I'm sorry," I murmur, squeezing her hand sympathetically. "I know you're worried about Phillip."

Olivia frowns, but her voice is full of bravado. "As long as he's in jail… that's where he belongs."

Wordlessly, she crooks her arm and I link mine into it as she leads me inside. As soon as we enter, we hear a loud commotion coming from near the casket at the front of the church.

"What the hell…?"

We both crane our necks to see what's going on, and it quickly becomes obvious that a family war is underway: the old rivalry between the Coopers and the Spauldings has been reignited by Coop's death. Mallet, Frank, and Remy are holding on to Buzz to keep him from swinging at Alan, who is facing him with a defiant stare.

Somewhere nearby we hear Beth yelling. "Stop, stop! Enough!"

"It's alright, Elizabeth," Alan's voice rises over the din. "I am not leaving until you hear what I have to say, Buzz."

"Alan, stop this," Beth commands.

"Don't you realise people are hurting?" Lillian yells angrily.

"It's _not_ my fault," Alan counters, emphasising every word.

"I knew he'd try to find a way to weasel out of Coop's accident," Olivia mutters beside me, shaking her head disdainfully.

But Alan is still talking, apparently unable to accept that no one wants to hear what he has to say.

"You know something? You're all delusional."

"You're the one who's delusional!" Daisy shouts from the front of the church.

"People, please!" Mallet speaks up. "Just get him out of here."

"We are trying to mourn somebody that we love," Marina says, her voice shaking with emotion.

But Alan is still not willing to let it go. He turns to confront Buzz, who is looking more and more like he would rip Alan to pieces if given half a chance.

"You know, Buzz, you've hated me for a long time, and my family. And now you think you have a reason. Well I am not responsible for what happened to Coop!"

Alan's words cause Buzz to lunge at him again, and a few people nearby try to pull him away.

Suddenly, in the midst of the chaos, the crowd parts just long enough for me to see Phillip Spaulding standing beside a police officer near the front of the church. Apparently Olivia sees him at the same time because her hand squeezes mine so tightly that it hurts.

"Oh my god," she whispers, her eyes trained on him.

Then, before I even realise what's happening, I watch as Phillip reaches for the gun of the policeman beside him and fires a single shot in the air. Immediately, everything around me slows to a crawl. Someone screams, and I see all of the people nearest to Phillip dive to the floor, terrified.

In an instant it's clear to me that every single person inside this church believes that Phillip is capable of systematically murdering all of us, one by one.

Even through the haze of my initial shock, I feel Olivia's arms circling around me protectively. All at once I'm aware that she has instinctively thrown herself in front of me to shield me from any stray gunfire. I reach for her as we both turn toward Phillip, who still has his gun pointed in the air.

But, murder was apparently never Phillip's intent. Instead, he looks at all of us coolly, ignoring the lingering screams of the mourners surrounding him.

"Now that I have your attention," he says, and my blood runs cold at his calm authority.

For a second I'm convinced that he's decided to take all of us hostage, and I quickly glance back toward the door of the church. Olivia and I aren't very far from it; we could make our escape in a matter of moments.

I'm about to make the suggestion to Olivia, but then my focus is drawn toward Phillip again as Marina and Frank move toward him to retrieve the gun. To my surprise – and the surprise of everyone else in the church, I suspect – he willingly surrenders the weapon to them.

Olivia's arms are still wrapped tightly around me, and I meet her fearful gaze.

"It's okay," I whisper, trying desperately to calm her down even as my own heart still thuds loudly in my ears. "We're okay."

"Phillip…"

That's the only word she can manage. I can practically see the wheels turning in her mind as she watches the action unfold around her.

"Olivia," I say more sharply, drawing her attention back to me.

Her eyes are unfocused and distant, and it scares me. Instantly my mind travels back to the moment when Olivia found out Phillip was back in town. I had never seen her so angry or frantic before. And now, seeing him in the flesh for the first time in years, she's clearly trying to figure out the fastest way to get rid of him. Suddenly it strikes me that I'm the only person here who might be able to prevent her from doing something crazy.

While everyone else's attention is focused on the scene at the front of the church, I reach up to cup Olivia's face in my hands.

"I'm right here, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

To my relief, my touch seems to bring her back to herself, and she nods tensely.

"Okay," she whispers.

We both turn to see that Frank now has Phillip's arms pinned behind his back.

"Frank, I'm not here to hurt anybody," Phillip protests.

"Really?" Frank sneers at him. "Well you'll have to pardon us. That's a little hard to buy."

"What is he doing here?" Olivia shouts angrily. "He's supposed to be locked up."

Rick approaches on the other side of Phillip, looking confusedly at his friend. "What are you doing? I don't get this."

"I made a deal, alright? I'm out just for the day so that I could come here." Phillip's face suddenly alters into a picture of remorse as he catches Blake's eye. "Blake, I'm so sorry."

"Don't!" she shouts at him. "Don't you say his name. Ross loved you."

"Let's get him out of here," Frank mutters, pulling Phillip roughly toward the door.

"Wait, wait!" Phillip protests. "Please, Frank! Look, I'm sorry. I know that I shouldn't have done that. I just… I just needed you all to listen to me. Just, _please_. It will only take a minute."

"Yeah, we know," Frank smirks. "Spauldings: good; Coopers: bad. It's our fault that Coop died. We got it."

While Frank leads Phillip to the door, I turn my attention to Olivia, who's staring blankly at the spot where Phillip was just standing. I run my hand down her arm soothingly.

"Hey, are you okay?"

She shifts her focus to me. "Do I look okay?"

"No," I shake my head. "Which is understandable."

"I just can't believe he's here," she says, staring at the door where Phillip just disappeared. "Why is he here?"

"I don't know," I reply. "He must have convinced someone to let him come."

Olivia scoffs. "You mean he must have paid someone off – or, better yet, blackmailed them. That's more his style." She looks at me pointedly. "I _told_ you this would happen. The Spauldings have a natural talent for getting out of jail. It's in their blood."

"Well, at least he didn't show up with his bulldozer," I joke, trying to lighten Olivia's mood. I instantly regret it when I see the stricken look on her face.

"Oh god, I'm sorry," I apologise, reaching for her hand. "That was a stupid thing to say."

She shakes her head and closes her eyes tightly, as if trying to will herself to let go of a horrible image.

"When I saw him fire that gun…" She looks at me again and her eyes are full of tears. "All I could think about was you… losing you."

"Hey," I murmur, gripping her fingers more tightly. "I'm right here. You'll _never_ lose me, okay?"

We stare at each other wordlessly, and she shifts a little closer to me. For a split second I feel certain she's going to kiss me right in front of the entire town. But then she seems to realise where we are, and we both take a small step back from each other.

"Um, why don't I find a spot for our jackets," I suggest. I reach up to her shoulders to help her remove her coat. "I'll be right back."

I dart toward the closet at the back of the church and hang up our jackets quickly before retracing my steps to find Olivia again. After a little searching, I find her standing in front of one of the flower wreaths that the Coopers have placed around the church. She appears to be lost in her thoughts.

"Why don't you sit?"

"No, I'm okay," she replies mechanically.

I frown at her, far from convinced. "You're not okay."

"If he'd stayed, just one more minute…" She trails off, and her eyes have resumed that frightening, distant look I saw earlier.

"What?" I press, even though I don't really want to know the answer.

"All I could think about was getting that gun out of his hands. And I swear I would have shot him."

The look on her face tells me that's not an idle threat, and I realise that, even with a gun, Phillip might not have been the most dangerous person in this church after all.

"Olivia…" I shake my head.

"What?" she challenges. "What am I supposed to do? He's threatening my family, Natalia. I can't just sit back and watch him take my daughter away from me. Not again."

"I know," I say softly, taking a step closer to her. "But you also can't let him provoke you into doing something that will destroy your family forever. It would be too easy to let him win that way."

Just then, our attention is drawn toward the altar by Phillip's voice. He's standing in front of Coop's casket, looking apologetically at the group crowded before him.

Almost immediately, Olivia moves toward him. Even though I know there's no holding her back, I stay close to her side, hoping that my presence will keep her from doing something drastic.

"Excuse me," Phillip says softly. His politeness is almost funny coming so soon after his earlier display of violence. "Um…"

His attention is suddenly drawn to Olivia, who has moved within a few feet of him. I find the flash of dread that crosses his face strangely comforting – it seems that Olivia still wields some power over him after all.

"I'm sorry about before," he continues, turning his focus back to the crowd of mourners. "I just need your attention. Everybody's attention."

tbc


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

A few minutes after Phillip's ridiculous speech to the mourners gathered at Coop's memorial, I find myself staring across the length of the church at the man himself. He's farther away from me now, but I'm more than a little pleased to see that he still can't hold my gaze. After just a few seconds, he looks down sheepishly at the floor.

The whole time Phillip was droning on about how he wants to reconcile the Coopers with the Spauldings and make the world a happier place, all I could think about was the threat he posed to my family. I couldn't concentrate on anything but finding a way to take him down, even if it meant attacking him with my bare hands. The only thing that held me back was the feeling of Natalia standing close to me, her presence acting as a constant reminder of Emma and the family I want to protect – the family I might destroy if I allowed myself to be guided by my first impulses.

But Natalia's not here right now.

I glance at the cop standing beside my ex-husband. The fact that Phillip was able to steal his gun with barely any effort suggests that he's not the most vigilant police escort that could have been assigned to this case. Maybe I can take advantage of that.

I shut my eyes tightly, reliving the horror of the moment when Phillip fired the cop's weapon into the air. Instantly, I had been flooded with fear – not for myself, but for Natalia. I had tried to protect her, but ultimately I knew there was little I could do. If Phillip had really wanted to murder us all in cold blood, I have no doubt he would have found a way to do it.

The memory of my helplessness in that moment is enraging. And, the fact that it was caused by Phillip Spaulding – the man who once kidnapped my daughter and made my life a living hell – makes me even more determined to even the score.

After everything Phillip has done, he doesn't deserve to be here right now.

I catch his eye again, and for a split second I see a flash of utterly complacent, smug confidence cross his face. He's so sure he has nothing to fear from me or anyone else. He thinks he can just waltz back into town and pretend to be some sort of enlightened peacemaker and everyone will forget the psychopath he was when he left.

Well, _I_ haven't forgotten.

I know exactly what he's capable of, especially if he's teaming up with Alan, whose insinuating note from yesterday is still fresh in my mind. Today, I saw the old Phillip – the man who would ruthlessly fire a gun at a funeral just to force everyone around him into submission – and in that moment, I became more certain than ever that he would do whatever is necessary to take Emma from me again. He's a dangerous man, and all the speeches in the world aren't going to convince me otherwise.

But right now I seem to be the only person prepared to do something to stop him before it's too late.

My eyes dart toward the police officer again, and I make a quick decision. I need to get that gun and prove to Phillip that I'm not going to just stand idly by while he tries to tear apart my family. He needs to be reminded of my ability to protect what's mine.

But just as I take my first step toward him, I feel Natalia at my side again, holding my jacket out to me.

"We should go."

"Where?" I ask, still staring at Phillip.

"Buzz is gone," she replies. "The whole family's gone. So let's—"

"I need a minute," I interrupt, pushing by her. I know I have to do this before Natalia can convince me otherwise.

I walk directly toward Phillip, but I've got one stop to make first: as I approach him, I make a desperate lunge for the weapon hidden in the police officer's holster.

"I need your gun," I tell him matter-of-factly.

Unfortunately, the cop manages to push me away before I can get my hands on the weapon – but not before I see Phillip's eyes widen in alarm. It's not much, but it's a small form of retribution for the terror he's caused today.

"Olivia!" Natalia yells, grabbing my hand roughly.

I pivot to face her, my mind still reeling. It takes me a few seconds to regain my bearings, and by the time I turn around again, Phillip is gone. My heart thuds wildly in my ears, and I try to conquer the flood of panic that washes over me when I realise that he's managed to slip away. Not for the first time in my life, my impulsiveness has managed to make a bad situation worse.

As stoically as possible, I retrace my steps to retrieve my jacket, which Natalia threw to the floor in her hurry to stop me.

"What were you _doing_?" she asks, following close at my heels.

"I wanted to scare him."

It's the truth: I didn't really plan on killing Phillip, although I'm not entirely certain what I would have done had the opportunity presented itself.

"Okay, well, you're scaring _me_."

That stops me short. The last thing I intended was to frighten Natalia; she's already suffered far too much today. But, with the adrenaline still pumping through my body, I'm in no mood to apologise for my actions. Instead, I spin around to confront her, allowing myself to give in to the anger that's been bubbling away inside of me ever since I saw Phillip fire that gun.

"Well, you know what? Now he's gone, and no one knows where he is. Now _I'm_ scared!"

I slump down in a nearby chair and rub my temples, trying to rid myself of the dull ache that's settled there.

"Okay, you know what? You're right, you _should_ be scared," Natalia says, clearly working hard to be sympathetic. She sits beside me. "But you can't just go off like that. You have to _think_."

The naiveté of her response is infuriating. _Doesn't she get it? Doesn't she realise just how much is at stake here?_

"I'm not gonna think!" I insist, looking at her intently. "There's no time to think. He took my daughter away from me once before."

"Okay, Emma!" Natalia says, leaping onto my weakness. "So you get in trouble, you end up in jail – what's going to happen to her? What's going to happen to _us_?"

"Us?" I echo with a harsh laugh. "Natalia, there's not going to _be_ an 'us' if Phillip has his way. Don't you see what's happening? He's not going to be happy until he takes away everyone that means anything to me."

"I know that's how it seems to you right now, but…" she trails off, chewing her fingernail nervously.

"But what?"

She sighs in resignation. "Olivia, I know we can't just blindly trust Phillip, but he did seem truly sorry for everything."

"What, you mean that little speech he just gave?" I scoff. "Trust me, Phillip Spaulding could give a speech like that in his sleep. It doesn't mean anything. He's playing us all like a fiddle. And apparently you're falling for it, just like everyone else in this godforsaken town."

"I'm _not_ falling for it," she protests, her voice rising in exasperation. "I just don't see why you have to _murder_ him to get your point across. Do you want to end up in jail?"

"Of course not," I mutter. "But I will do whatever I have to in order to protect Emma – and you, for that matter."

Her face softens for just a moment, but then she quickly resumes her argument.

"You're worried about him," she says. "About how he'll react when he finds out about us."

"_Yes_."

"Okay, because of Doris and the publicity and her getting her hands on Emma's story and—"

"He's gonna use it against me," I interrupt.

She takes a deep breath, and I can see that she's trying to formulate a plan. "Let me try to fix it."

"How? What do you mean?"

"I will talk to Phillip," she suggests. "I will make him see that there is nothing between us… nothing."

_Nothing?_

The logical part of me knows that Natalia is only trying to help, but her words feel like a bucket of ice water tossed in my face. Her apparent eagerness to lie to Phillip about our relationship taps into one of my biggest fears – that when push comes to shove, she will _never_ want people to know about us.

The worst part of it is that, as angry as I am, I know I deserve an equal share of the blame for our situation. After all, I'm the one who asked Natalia to keep our relationship a secret until we know exactly what Phillip and Alan have planned.

Our eyes lock for a moment, and her face is full of sadness and something that might be regret. But, instead of saying anything, she gets up and moves toward the entrance of the church. I follow her, and as we put on our jackets a thick silence settles between us.

Finally, Natalia speaks. "You're not saying anything."

"What am I supposed to say?" I ask, unconsciously tightening my scarf around my neck like a noose.

"Well, it's just an idea," she replies, her lips pursing in a thin line. I can tell she's as frustrated at this whole situation as I am, and she's working hard to keep her voice level. "And it's not a _bad_ idea."

_God, she's so naïve_.

"You go talk to Phillip."

"Yes."

"And you tell him that all that talk that he's hearing about us is just that – it's talk?"

"I think I can make him understand," she shrugs.

The ease of her reply makes me feel unsteady. Apparently she doesn't have to think twice about how she would lie about our relationship – it's the _truth_ that would be a challenge.

"Yeah, I'm sure you could," I finally mutter.

"_Why_ is this a bad idea?" she asks, her face growing rigid with anger.

"Is that what you think everyone wants to hear?" I reply irritably. "Is that what you think _he_ wants to hear?" She starts to speak, but I interrupt. "I don't understand the way you think sometimes. I just…" I trail off and shake my head.

"Okay, I'm trying to help. I don't understand why you have to be mean," she argues petulantly.

For a few seconds, I can't decide whether to scream at her, laugh at her, or pull her into an embrace that would make us both forget everything that's happened today. My frustration – with Phillip, with Natalia, but most of all with myself – is overwhelming, and I know I need to get out of here before I say something I won't be able to take back.

But then, as always, the last words out of my mouth end up being the most vitriolic.

"I don't need your help, okay?" I snap, almost wincing at my own bitterness. "It's _my_ problem."

Without another word, I turn and storm away.

* * *

As I watch Olivia stride toward the door, I briefly consider chasing after her. But right now I feel too angry to try to make amends. All I wanted to do was to make things better for her, and she nearly bit my head off.

With a frustrated sigh, I sink onto the chair behind me. Once my initial anger about our argument begins to fade, it doesn't take long for me to realise why we lashed out at each other: we're both terrified. And it's not only Phillip's return that's scaring us, although that certainly hasn't helped: it's also this as-yet undefined relationship we've begun. In a matter of days, our simple friendship has transformed into something far more intense and complicated than either of us ever expected.

But, instead of just being honest about our fears, we're falling back into old habits: it's easier to push each other away than to deal with the uncertainties we both share.

After a minute, I decide the best thing I can do is to head back to the farmhouse to wait for Olivia to come home. Maybe once she's cooled down we can finally get some of these things out in the open.

As I'm making my way toward the door, I nearly run headlong into Marina.

"Natalia, hi!"

"Hi." I give her a quick hug. "I'm so sorry, Marina."

"Thanks." She laughs grimly. "We sure do know how to put on a show, don't we? Leave it to the Spauldings to destroy our chance to mourn Coop properly."

I shake my head sympathetically. "I can't believe they showed up like that."

"Well, I can. But I have to admit I was surprised by Phillip's speech. I never would have thought I'd see the day when Phillip Spaulding was calling for a truce with the Coopers."

"Where did he go, anyway?" I ask, suddenly terrified that Olivia might have decided to go looking for him.

"Mallet took him back to the jail."

"Really?" I breathe a sigh of relief. "That's good news."

"Yeah," she replies, watching me closely. "It must have been tough for Olivia to see him again."

I nod tensely. "It was."

When it's obvious I'm not about to say more, she keeps talking.

"Look, Natalia, I'm glad I caught up to you before you left. I was wondering if I could ask you a favour?"

"Of course," I reply. "Anything I can do to help."

"Well, I don't know if you heard, but Buzz has decided to shut down Company."

"What?" I gasp in surprise. "Why?"

"It's a long story," she sighs. "Basically Alan tried to give the deed back to the Coopers, but my grandfather refused, and now he wants us all to help pack the place up. For some reason, my father has it in his head that he should be the one to clean out Coop's room at the boarding house."

"Isn't it a little soon for that?"

She shrugs. "I guess he just wanted to get it over with. The thing is, most of the rest of us will be busy emptying out the restaurant, and I hate the idea of my dad having to pack Coop's stuff all by himself. So, I was wondering if you'd mind stopping by the boarding house to lend him a hand? Just for an hour or two…?" She looks at me hopefully.

"Oh, um… I don't know. With everything going on with Phillip, I should really make sure Olivia's okay."

Marina looks disappointed. "I understand, and I don't mean to push, but… do you think you could swing by for just a little bit?" I start to speak, but she continues more emphatically. "It's just that you're the only person I can think of that my dad might take help from. And, it would really mean a lot to all of us."

Marina's pleading tone presses heavily on my sense of obligation to the Coopers, and I can't think of a way to turn her down politely. After my encounter with Frank at the Beacon yesterday, I know that I need to tread carefully with him in order to avoid giving him the wrong impression about us. Then again, spending an hour or so helping him lift a few boxes doesn't seem like an unreasonable request. Besides, given how angry Olivia was when she left, I doubt she'll be returning to the farmhouse any time soon.

Before I know what I'm doing, I feel myself nodding my agreement.

"Okay. I'll stop by Company for a little bit before I head home."

"Oh, thank you so much, Natalia!" Marina replies happily, giving me another hug. "You're the best."

* * *

After storming out of the church, I drive around aimlessly, trying to calm down and gather my thoughts. My argument with Natalia is still echoing in my head, but I force myself to push that aside in order to focus on the one thing I know for sure: I can't put off talking to Phillip any longer.

With a little investigation, I soon discover he's been placed back behind bars, so I head in the direction of the Springfield PD.

Once I sign in, I'm immediately directed down a darkened corridor toward a cell at the back. My heels clack loudly against the concrete floor, and I ignore the catcalls from some of the other prisoners as I walk by. Right now my focus is entirely on finding Phillip.

Soon I see him, slumped over on his bunk. He lifts his head as I approach, and I smile coldly at the alarmed look in his eyes.

"Olivia…?"

"Alright."

I'm startled and more than a little annoyed with myself when I hear the defeated tone of my voice. I had every intention of confronting Phillip with guns blazing – metaphorically speaking, this time – and instead I sound like I'm ready to roll over and surrender.

He looks genuinely confused. "Alright… what?"

"I can't wait," I confess. "I need you to be straight with me about your intentions. Why are you here? And no speeches… no nothing. Just tell me the truth."

tbc


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

As I walk into Company, I'm immediately struck by the emptiness of the place. A few half-full boxes are waiting to be taped shut, and there are bits of tape and packing paper strewn on the floor. I'm used to seeing Company bustling with people and lively chatter, but now it just feels lonely and abandoned.

I cross the diner to look inside some boxes sitting on a nearby table. A couple are empty, presumably waiting to be filled with Coop's things, and some have a few random items already packed inside them.

In one of the boxes, lying on top of a pile of books, is a picture of Nicky and Rafe. I pick it up and chuckle quietly at the memory it triggers. Rafe has always hated having his photo taken, but the day I took this one, Nicky had held onto his son tightly, playfully nudging him and making jokes while they waited for me to figure out how to turn the camera flash on. It's one of the last pictures I ever took of Nicky; two weeks later he was dead.

"I can't believe it's been a year since I lost you," I say quietly. "But, life goes on… So many things have changed."

I shake my head and smile faintly as I imagine what Nicky would think about the biggest change in my life. I'm not sure he would ever have been able to wrap his mind around my feelings for Olivia – or hers for me.

"Some are good, some are just… confusing," I continue, my smile fading. "And some are _so_ sad. Coop was so young. Your family's in a lot of pain, and I'm going to do everything I can to help them, Nicky. They've been so good to me."

I place the picture carefully back inside the box and grab the empty ones beside it before making my way upstairs to find Frank.

* * *

"I need to know why you're here," I repeat, glaring at Phillip through the bars of his cell.

"Are you armed?" he asks, and I can tell he's only half-joking.

"No," I admit, silently cursing my inability to think ahead. "But that's really more your thing these days, isn't it? It's very Alan of you."

"Sorry about that," he replies. "Sorry about many things. What I did to Emma."

"You made my life a living hell."

"I'd say we both caused each other a lot of pain."

I concede the point with a deeper frown.

"So, what? Now everything's good?"

"You were at Coop's memorial. You heard everything I said. I have no interest in picking up where I left off. I want to make amends, and move on."

"Just like that," I mutter.

"No," he answers, getting up from his bunk. "I mean, I know it will take time. But, thankfully, I have time. I got that second chance that everybody hopes for." He shrugs. "So, that's me. What about you?"

He crosses the small cell to stand on the other side of the bars in front of me, and my heart suddenly drops at the knowing look in his eyes.

_How much has he already heard about Natalia and me? What has Alan told him?_

"You may as well spit it out," he says. "I know why you're here. You want to know what I'm going to do about Emma. And you want to know what I think about this living arrangement that you have with our daughter and another woman."

At first I'm surprised by his ability to read my mind, but then I remember that Phillip always had an uncanny knack for knowing what I'm thinking. For a split second, I'm tempted to just tell him the truth and get it over with. After all, what's the point in keeping it a secret anymore? Hiding from the world has only worked to drive a rift between Natalia and me, weakening us just when we need each other the most.

But then my thoughts are quickly replaced with the memory of Phillip brandishing a gun at the memorial, and my terror that he would use it to threaten Natalia or take my daughter away from me again. There is no way I can risk giving Phillip the upper hand, at least not until I can be certain that he really doesn't have any intention of destroying my family.

Thinking quickly, I realise my best option is to be upfront about the things I assume Phillip has already heard through the Springfield rumour mill.

"Okay," I say. "So, Emma writes an innocent essay called 'My Two Mommies' for her fourth grade class, and the next thing I know I've got politicians and parents and half the town making innuendos about my 'alternative lifestyle.' And then you show up afterward. It's _not_ a coincidence. You want to know if I'm corrupting our daughter."

He shakes his head. "Emma is one of the reasons I came back, that's true. But I didn't know anything about your 'alternative lifestyle.'" He continues to study me, and I shift uncomfortably under his close scrutiny. "Is it true?"

"No!" I yell, a little too quickly and a lot too loudly. His eyes narrow in suspicion. "It's a bunch of ridiculous gossip spread by a bunch of narrow-minded idiots. It's nothing."

My mind is instantly full of Natalia's voice: _I will make him see that there is nothing between us… nothing._

I glance away from Phillip's pointed gaze, remembering just how upset I was at hearing Natalia describe the lie she wanted to tell him about our relationship.

_And now here I am, doing the exact same thing._

"Olivia," Phillip says knowingly. "You don't care about gossip. So what's got you so worked up?"

I feel the blood rising to my cheeks again, but I try to scoff off his suggestion. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I don't live in the Stone Age," he tells me. "So if there's any truth about this with you and Natalia, then… you know, I make no judgments."

_This must be a trick_.

There is no way that the Phillip Spaulding I know would give up an opportunity like this – one that would give him a chance to hold something over me.

"Okay, so you think that we're together?" I hedge.

"I think that you're a passionate person who marches to her own beat," he reasons. "You always have. So… no, it wouldn't surprise me. And you can trust me when I tell you: it wouldn't bother me."

_Who the hell does he think he is, coming back here to give me his blessing?_

"I want to trust you," I reply, more honestly than I had intended. "But that's like saying I could trust your father, and that'll happen when pigs fly."

"Right," Phillip nods. "Which is why I'm here: a whole lot of people in this town who don't trust me anymore. You are among those with good reason."

"Yeah, well I'm the only one of them who's being accused of having a lesbian love affair."

Phillip's tone is slow and deliberate. "And I'm saying: _it's okay_."

"I don't need your 'okay'," I snap.

We stare at each other tensely until I hear the sound of a police officer's footsteps behind me.

"Time's up," he says.

I spin away, but before I take more than two steps Phillip calls out to me.

"There's just one more thing, Olivia."

When I turn back around to face him, his face has transformed into a look of grim determination.

And, all at once, I know exactly what he's going to tell me: he knows everything.

* * *

I find Frank carrying a bag out of Coop's room. He smiles sadly when he sees me setting down the empty boxes in the hallway.

"How can I help?"

"You know what?" Frank replies distractedly. "I'm almost done. These boxes just need to be taped up, so…"

He trails off and walks back inside Coop's room. He looks tired and broken, and my heart aches in sympathy. I can't help but remember a year ago, when I was the one who had to clear out a loved one's things after he died: having to decide what to keep for myself, what to give to others, and what to throw away. No one should have to go through all of that alone.

I follow close behind him. "Frank, I'm not just talking about packing."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Hey, you know, the Coopers have been there for me and Rafe more times than I can count, and I just want to return the favour. So, just tell me: is there anything that I can do?"

"Look, Natalia, I really appreciate the offer. It's just that… it's been a really brutal week." He tosses more books into a box to punctuate his point. "With Coop gone now, and Dad giving up Company…"

"I know," I reply. "Marina told me. I don't understand; why would he do that?"

"My take is that he just doesn't want to walk into Company and not see Coop at his laptop like he always was." He shakes his head sadly. "Look, I'm sorry. How are you doing? I saw you and Olivia fighting at the funeral home. Are you alright?"

My heart jumps at his mention of Olivia, and I put my hand to my cheek to hide my rising colour.

"Oh, it's just, um… what else is new? Olivia and I, we don't really agree on much anyway. It's just how we are, I guess." I laugh uncomfortably.

"I guess that can make for a long day sometimes," Frank replies, watching me closely. "Olivia's lucky to have you, you know. I don't think she realises just how lucky she is."

"I'm the lucky one," I reply instantly, and it takes me a few seconds to realise that I've actually spoken the words out loud. I'm so used to hiding my feelings about Olivia from everyone that it's startling to hear myself declaring them so openly.

Frank appears equally surprised by my response, and I can feel myself turning a deeper shade of red when I realise all my emotions must be written on my face. Wanting to change the subject, I turn away from him to pack some DVDs inside a nearby box.

After a long silence, Frank speaks again, and his voice suddenly sounds much closer to me.

"You're a good friend, Natalia."

When I turn back around, I discover that he's now standing right behind me, and his expression has altered into that same eager look I saw yesterday morning at the Beacon.

"Frank…" I begin warningly. I take a step back, but my heel hits the box on the floor behind me, stopping my progress.

"What?" he replies quietly. "It's the truth. I feel so lucky to have you in my life."

Then, without warning, he wraps his arms around my waist and swoops down to kiss me. Instinctively, I push my hands against his chest, leaning back before our lips meet.

"Woah, Frank!"

Fortunately, he loosens his grip and I manage to escape to the other side of the small room.

"That's _not_ why I'm here," I continue. "I just wanted to help you with Coop's stuff – to be a friend to you."

He looks confused. "But I thought—"

"We're _friends_, remember?" I interrupt emphatically.

"Look, I know what you said before, but when you came to the hospital after Coop died… Natalia, I suddenly realised just how _right_ for each other we are."

"We're not right for each other, Frank," I sigh. "We never were."

"See, that's the thing," he persists. "I think we _are_ right for each other, and you're just not able to see it because… because you're still hung up on Gus. And I get it, Natalia. I really do. Gus was the love of your life, and you don't just get over that in a year. It takes time." He moves a little closer. "And I'll wait for you. I'll give you as long as you need."

I find myself inching backward again. "Stop, okay? This isn't going to happen."

"I know that's what you think right now," he smiles confidently. "But you'll change your mind. I just have to be patient."

"Oh, Frank." With some effort, I resist the urge to scream my frustration aloud.

But my annoyance quickly disappears when I think about how my behaviour over the last few days must have appeared to him. For Frank, everything I've done to try to support the Coopers has been a sign of my hidden desire to be with him. And, somehow he's convinced himself that we belong together, in spite of my objections. Maybe even because of them.

"I'm sorry if you misunderstood things, Frank, but I'm not just playing hard-to-get, okay? And I'm not still hung up on Gus. The truth is… I just don't have those feelings for you. I'm sorry."

He looks crestfallen, and for a moment I think my words have finally sunk in. But then, as if some magic switch has been flicked in his mind, he resumes his earlier argument.

"Maybe not right now," he says. "But, with a bit of time, I hope you'll change your mind about us." His eyes light up with a new idea. "Hey, how about you let me take you on another date, and I'll _prove_ to you that we're right for each other. Dinner, dancing, flowers: the whole deal! Besides, what have you got to lose? I mean, it's not like either of us is seeing anyone else, right?"

I gape at him, unable to speak for a moment as my mind struggles to wrap itself around what he's saying. His stubbornness might be endearing if it weren't for the fact that he's completely ignoring everything I'm saying to him.

And then, all at once, I'm no longer at a loss for words. In fact, they're tumbling out of my mouth too quickly for me to stop them.

"Frank, I _am_ seeing someone. Olivia and I are together."

* * *

"Olivia, why are you insisting on hiding this from me?"

I try desperately to keep my face blank, even though my heart feels like it's taken up residence in my throat.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Phillip rocks back on his heels and sighs heavily. "Alan told me what he saw."

"And what, pray tell, did Alan say?" I grip one of the bars between us tightly.

"He said he saw you kissing Natalia at Towers the other night," Phillip explains. "So… tell me again about how you two are nothing more than _friends_, Olivia."

My eyes narrow and I lean forward, suddenly overcome with the urge to reach through the bars and strangle him.

"What do you want from me?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"Nothing," Phillip shrugs. "I don't want anything from you. I already told you: you and Natalia being together doesn't bother me in the least. I'm just glad to know that you're happy."

"Right," I mutter sarcastically. "You came back to town just to tell me you're happy for me."

"I _am _happy for you," he insists. "Of course, I'm still hoping you'll let me be a part of Emma's life at some point down the road, but…"

"That's what this is all about, isn't it?" I hiss. "You and Alan want to use my relationship with Natalia against me."

He shakes his head firmly. "That's not it, Olivia. I have no desire to use anything against you. I just hope that one day you can trust me enough to let me see my daughter."

I release a contemptuous laugh. "Yeah well, that'll happen right around the time that hell freezes over."

He stares at me for a long moment without speaking. Finally he says, "I know I have a lot to prove, Olivia, but I _will_ see my daughter one day."

"Over my dead body. Or, better yet, over yours."

At that, Phillip grimaces and moves away from the bars.

"What can I do to make you realise that I'm not coming after you or your family?" he asks quietly. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to stay out of my life," I reply bitterly.

Then, without waiting for a response, I turn and storm away.

* * *

I can't decide which of us is more shocked by my declaration: Frank or me. We stare at each other wordlessly for what feels like ages.

"What?" Frank finally sputters, taking a few steps back. "Is that some kind of joke? Because if it is, it isn't funny."

"It's not a joke," I reply, my voice sounding far calmer than I feel inside. "I'm with Olivia. We're a… a couple."

"A couple?" he repeats dumbly. "You and Olivia?"

"We've had feelings for each other for a long time, but we were both too afraid to do anything about it… until just recently."

"Wait, is _that_ why you broke up with me last week?" Frank asks, his voice rising indignantly. "Because you and Olivia…?"

I nod, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. I can hardly believe I'm saying all these things out loud, but in a strange way it's an enormous relief. Telling people about us makes our relationship _real_ in a way it wasn't before – and, more than anything, I want to know that what Olivia and I have is real.

"I know how this must sound to you," I continue. "But I've had these feelings for Olivia for a long time, Frank. I just wasn't ready to deal with them. But then that night you and I had our date at Company, I suddenly realised that I was leading you on, and I knew I had to end it."

"But, how did this even happen?" he presses. "I mean, I know you've become good friends, and you told me about Emma's presentation and Doris's press conference, but I never thought…"

"I know," I smile faintly. "Olivia and I, we're completely different people in a lot of ways. All I know is that when I'm with her, everything in my life makes sense. She's the most generous, compassionate, beautiful person I know. We just… _fit_."

My smile slowly evaporates when I see the jealousy that flashes in Frank's eyes. He takes a deep breath before speaking, as though dreading what he's about to say.

"Look Natalia, Olivia is… she can be a really great person. A good friend, even, when she wants to be. But as far as her love life goes, she is seriously messed up. I've seen it first hand."

"Please don't talk about her like that," I tell him. "I know she's done some bad things in the past, but Olivia's changed a lot over the last year. And so have I."

Frank releases a harsh, mocking laugh. "Oh, right," he mutters. "I hate to break this to you, but Olivia is incapable of _change_, Natalia. She just puts on a different act depending on what she wants. So, okay, maybe right now she wants you. But tomorrow she'll be off to the next conquest, and you won't even recognise her anymore."

Indignation flows through me, and I know I need to leave before I say something I'll regret.

"I'm sorry, Frank," I say as I begin moving toward the door. "I came here today because I'd hoped you and I could go back to being friends. I'm truly sorry for giving you the wrong impression about my feelings. But I am _not_ going to apologise to you for being with Olivia."

"Wait, Natalia," he presses, moving quickly to block my exit. "She's just using you – can't you see that?"

"No one is using anyone," I insist. "Whether you want to believe it or not, Olivia and I are together because we _want_ to be. Nothing you can say is going to change that."

He stares at me for a moment, and I watch as anger, sadness, and regret sweep across his face.

"Look, I know you don't want to hear this," he sighs. "But you're making a big mistake here. Olivia is only going to hurt you."

"Frank, I have to go."

A long, tense silence settles between us before he finally moves aside. But as I push past him, one last thought occurs to me, and I turn back around to face him.

"I'd appreciate it if you would keep this between us for now," I tell him. "Olivia and I haven't told anyone about us yet."

"Not a problem," he replies sarcastically. "In fact, I'd kind of like to forget about it myself."

I frown darkly at him before I spin around and walk out the door.

* * *

Blindly, I follow the police officer toward the exit and sign myself out. My heart is still racing as I push open the front doors of the building and step into the crisp early evening air.

_Olivia, I _will_ see my daughter one day…_

Phillip's words continue to echo through my head, and I suddenly feel sick with anger. Folding my arms over my stomach, I bend over to catch my breath and pull myself together before I try to drive home.

When I glance up again, I'm surprised to see Natalia walking quickly toward me with a worried look on her face.

"Olivia, are you okay?" she asks once she's reached my side.

She puts an arm around my shoulders and I am instantly calmed by the pressure of her hand against my back. I close my eyes and nod, releasing a slow exhalation.

When I feel her fingers seeking the pulse point on my throat, I smile.

"I'm okay, Natalia. Really."

"I'll be the judge of that," she replies, using her best no-nonsense tone. I know there's no point in arguing with her, so I stand patiently while she measures my heartbeat. Once she's satisfied that I'm not going to have a heart attack on the steps of the Springfield PD, she meets my gaze again and smiles hesitantly. "I guess you'll live."

"Thank you, Doctor Rivera," I tease her. "So, what are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you," she explains. "It didn't take much detective work to figure out where you'd be."

"Wow, have I really become that predictable?"

"No, I just know you really, really well," she smiles. "So, you spoke to Phillip?"

"Yeah." Leaning back against the wall behind me, I drop my head and release a shaky breath. "It was a little… intense."

"What happened?"

"Well, he insisted that he only came back to Springfield to prove that he's a changed man. He said he has no intention of coming after me or my family."

"That sounds good. Doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it _sounds_ great," I grimace. "That's the problem: it's all just words. Phillip is a master manipulator, and I can't trust a thing that comes out of his mouth. The only thing I know for sure is that he wants to see Emma. And, um…" I clear my throat nervously, "… he knows about us."

The whole time I'm speaking Natalia is nodding her head understandingly, but she freezes when my final words register in her mind.

"He _knows_ about us?" she echoes. "How?"

"Alan told him about seeing us at Towers."

"Oh," she breathes. "How did he react?"

"Suspiciously well," I smirk. "He claimed to be happy for me, and to only want what's best for all of us. It's the new, chipper, happy-go-lucky Phillip. Quite a change from the last time I saw him."

"Maybe he's being serious," Natalia suggests. "Maybe he really doesn't want to cause trouble."

"I don't know what he wants. That's what worries me."

Natalia takes my hand, interlacing our fingers. "Well, whatever happens, we'll face it together."

"Yes, we will." I squeeze her fingers gratefully. "Hey, I'm sorry about what I said at the memorial."

"Don't," she says, shaking her head. She wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me into a tight embrace. "Don't apologise. I'm the one who should be sorry."

Just then, I see some people approaching the entrance to the police department and I automatically stiffen and begin to pull away from Natalia. But, to my surprise, she holds me close to her, refusing to let go.

"We shouldn't do this," I say quietly. "Everyone will figure out…"

"What, the truth?" Natalia asks, lifting her head to meet my gaze. "I hate to tell you this, Olivia, but I think most of this town knows about us now. Or, at least they have suspicions, and that amounts to basically the same thing."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"No," she answers firmly.

Then, as if to prove the point, she kisses me. She continues holding me tightly against her until the group of people passes by us to go inside the building. Not one of them gives us a second glance.

Once they've disappeared inside, I smile down at Natalia and breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

"The world didn't come to an end."

She returns my smile and shakes her head. "No, it didn't."

"So, what does this mean, exactly?" I ask shyly. "Are we going to tell everyone about us now?"

"Well, I don't think we need to take out a full-page advertisement in the _Springfield Journal_ or anything," she laughs. "And we need to make sure we're the first people to explain things to Emma and Rafe."

"Yeah," I reply, trying to tamp down the sudden wave of anxiety that crashes over me at her mention of Rafe. I have a feeling his reaction to this news isn't going to be as accepting as I'm hoping my daughter's will be.

"Once we've done that… then, yes, I think we should tell people." Suddenly, a sheepish look crosses her face and she glances down. "Actually, um, that reminds me… I kind of told someone else about us today."

"You did? Who?"

She lifts her head to meet my curious gaze. "Frank."

"Frank?" I feel like I'm about ten steps behind in this conversation. "Why would you tell him about us?"

She bites her lip nervously, and I can already tell I'm not going to like what she has to say. I try to steel myself for whatever it is.

"After the funeral, Marina asked me to go to Coop's place to help Frank pack up some things." I start to object, but she holds up a hand to stop me. "I know, I know – I shouldn't have done it. I should have gone with my first instinct and tried to find you. That way, maybe you wouldn't have had to confront Phillip all by yourself."

I shake my head. "I wouldn't have let you come with me anyway, Natalia. I don't want you going anywhere near Phillip."

"Well, I could have supported you at least," she insists. "And besides, I should have realised how my showing up at Coop's would look to Frank. But I was upset about our fight at the memorial, and I wasn't thinking clearly. And, I really did just want to help the Coopers." I nod my understanding, and she continues. "But Frank got the wrong idea about why I was there, and… he tried to kiss me."

"He did _what_?" Natalia shushes me, so I repeat in a stage whisper, "He did what?"

"He tried to kiss me," Natalia confirms. "_Tried_, Olivia. I didn't let him. But, I was so surprised by it that I… I kind of blurted out everything about our relationship."

"Wow," I reply, laughing nervously. "How did he take it?"

She looks away. "Um… not very well."

"Let me guess. He told you that I'm an evil influence… that I only care about myself, and I'll just corrupt you. Olivia Spencer: Wicked Witch of Springfield."

"Something like that," she replies. "But I told him what a wonderful person you are – how kind and smart and funny." Her breath catches a little. "And beautiful." She leans closer and brushes her lips against mine in an all-too-brief kiss.

"Well, Frank does have a point, you know," I tell her. "I have been called the town whore in the past – by more than one person."

I intend it as a joke, but I can hear the fear underlying my words. The truth is that I know Frank's objections about me aren't without merit. I've done plenty of things to deserve my reputation for destroying nearly every good thing that's ever come into my life.

"Olivia, Frank has no idea what he's talking about. He was just angry and lashing out. But I know that you're a different person than you were when you dated him."

"Well, 'dated' might be a strong word for it," I point out. "Besides, if I'm any different now, it's entirely because of you, Natalia. You've been the most steady, constant person in my life. Even when I was at my lowest, you were always there for me." I smile sadly and press a light kiss against her temple. "To be honest, I have no idea why you've stuck around this long."

"You really have no idea?" She slides her hand to the back of my neck to pull me closer to her again. "I thought it would be obvious by now."

"What would?"

Before she responds, she gives me a look that is so full of sincerity that it steals all the air from my lungs.

"I'm in love with you, Olivia," she says quietly. "I've been in love with you for so long…" She shakes her head and laughs softly, her eyes bright with tears.

As unexpected as they are, her words feel like a warm blanket settling around me. I've never felt so accepted, so utterly _safe_ with anyone in my life. Too many times I've given my heart to someone, only to have it stomped on right in front of me, often repeatedly. Those experiences have taught me never to fall in love without reservations, to always hold something back.

But now, looking at this woman standing in front of me – this fiery and strong, soft and generous, and utterly _good_ woman – I suddenly realise just how completely lost to her I am. And, while that would normally terrify me, causing me to run away or do something stupid to try to destroy it, at this moment it just feels right.

I dip my head to claim her lips in a slow, lingering kiss, and when I pull away we're both breathless. We rest our foreheads together, and a few seconds pass before I realise I haven't said a word to respond to her declaration. I lift my head and smile down at her through my tears.

"I love you, Natalia... so, _so_ much."

My voice is barely a whisper, but I might as well have shouted it. She pulls me against her again, and we hold onto each other like we're clinging to an anchor at sea.

But then, gradually, the combination of the cold winter breeze and the sound of police sirens nearby draws us both back to a realisation of where we are, and we force ourselves to let go of each other.

Natalia grabs my hand and flashes me a bright, dimpled smile.

"Take me home, Olivia."

She doesn't need to ask twice.

tbc


End file.
